


tell them we're like magnets

by you_explode



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (sort of? not on each other), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, Bisexual Louis, Cheating, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dom Louis, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Girl Direction, Light Bondage, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Sub Harry, lots of awkward wlw feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 03:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_explode/pseuds/you_explode
Summary: Louis and Harry are roommates and best mates who like to kiss when they're drunk. Louis doesn't want her feelings to ruin things, so she starts seeing someone else, but she still can't seem to stop kissing Harry.uni au where girl direction/little mix live together and get wasted a lot and make questionable choices.





	tell them we're like magnets

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is basically my geordie shore au, except they're at uni. i got the prompt '26. A and B are roommates and both have feelings for each other but B doesn’t want her feelings to ruin her friendship with A so she ________ and that forces A to confront her.' and then i watched too much geordie shore and ended up with this. hopefully i didn't stray toooo far from the prompt.
> 
> [there's a playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3j343L3lRs3cl8j9ey97rM) but if you only listen to one song from it, it should be doris day by jack's mannequin, which was my other main inspiration for this fic and is where the title comes from.
> 
> a million thanks to L for your creative and technical input and for calming me down, i probably wouldn't have ended up posting this if it weren't for you <3
> 
> also, i've said louis/omc but it's actually stan lmao. but most of their relationship happens off screen and it's definitely not serious.

Louis opens her eyes to a face full of sunlight and a churning stomach. Her stomach rolls even more when she remembers the row she had with Stan last night.

They’ve been sort of dating for a few weeks now. They reconnected a few months ago, after knowing each other as kids. And Louis’s been avoiding telling him she’s bi the whole time. Last night she finally told him.  


She doesn’t know what she was expecting, why she was so scared. It’s just the unknown, she thinks - biphobia is so insidious. She really never knows how someone will react until she tells them. And she hasn't even come out to many people - she only told all the girls about a month ago, and they’re her closest friends. For the longest time, only Liam and Zayn and her mum knew.  


The girls were fine with it, or so they said. Stan was fine with it, or so he said. It was only later in the night, when she was drunk and dancing with Harry, and Harry kissed her, that he blew his top.  


In the light of day, Louis gets why that bothered him.  


*  


“I don’t understand what his problem is,” Harry says, later that day, when they’re lazing off their hangovers in Louis's room. “S’just what girls do, innit.”  


Louis frowns. Something about that makes her stomach sink. Probably the heteronormativity in it. The reinforcement that Harry’s straight. Like Louis isn’t reminded of that every second of her life.  


“S’prob’ly that she’s bi,” Liam rightfully points out. “Like, him knowing that now, it changes things.”  


“I don’t see how,” Harry pouts. Louis wonders faintly if she’s being thick on purpose.  


“She could be into you just as easily as him, Haz, ya daft cunt,” Niall says, rolling her eyes. “S’a bit different from straight girls tashin’ on.”  


Louis smiles, because it’s always hilarious when Niall uses Geordie slang, even now, when she feels like she might throw up.  


Because Niall’s just pointed out the exact reason she was terrified to come out to the girls. Particularly Harry.  


Harry blinks slowly, like she always does when she’s called out. Like she’s waking up from a nap. “Oh,” she says, then she looks at Louis, rather helplessly. “But it’s not like that. She’s into _him_ , aren’t you Lou?”  


Louis doesn’t sigh, doesn’t scream, doesn’t burst into tears. “Well,” she says. “I mean, yeah.”  


“Right, so it’s stupid,” Harry picks up her argument again. “It’s never meant anything between us before, why would anything change now? Just ‘cuz everyone knows you’re bi? Big deal.”  


Louis’s heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. “Good point,” she says weakly.  


“Tell him he’s being a tosser,” Harry says, flinging her legs over Louis’s lap. “You’re me best mate, I’ll kiss ya if I want to.”  


Louis sees the look Niall and Liam exchange. She sees it. She runs her hand over Harry’s smooth legs and ignores them.  


***  


Louis’s known some of these girls forever.  


She met Liam in year eight when Liam moved to Doncaster. She was a bit spotty, a bit chubby, very shy, and she had a boys name - and she was teased for all of those things. Louis watched her sit by herself for three days before she cracked. Liam was wary of her, but over the next week, Louis corrected anyone who called her Lou or Louise with, “Actually, my name’s Louis.”  


Eventually, everyone called her Louis, and Liam wasn’t the only one with a boys name anymore.  


(Harry is the only person she’s never corrected. The first time Harry called her Lou, she melted, and she’s had the same reaction every time since.)  


She met Zayn even earlier, in year three when they were in the same class for the first time. So that’s thirteen years now of Zayn being her best friend. Her first best friend, that is. Louis feels like she has four best friends these days, at the very least. But Zayn was there first.  


Zayn and Louis were friendly, they sat next to each other in class, and they hung out together at lunch. They talked a lot. Louis started to notice that Zayn never spoke that much with other people, and it made her feel special. She liked Zayn a lot, so much more than anyone else in their school, but it still felt more like they were friendly instead of actual friends. She didn’t know how to crack Zayn.  


And then 9/11 happened. And racism and Islamophobia ramped up, like it was acceptable suddenly, even being so far from America. Louis didn't really see it herself until some time later - days, maybe weeks - when she found Zayn hiding in the trees near their classroom, crying into her knees.  


Louis sat with her, wrapped an arm around her while she cried. It took a long time for Zayn to say what was wrong. Louis remembers sitting for hours, but it was probably more like ten minutes. And eventually, because Louis wouldn’t stop asking, Zayn said, “It was Tom.”  


Louis knew Tom. He was kind of a bully, he really annoyed Louis sometimes, but Zayn had this big crush on him for some reason. Louis still remembers her stomach sinking, how she’d angrily demanded to know what he’d done.  


“He said I was ugly and that my dad was probably Osama Bin Laden.” She choked on more tears. “He said he wouldn’t date me even if I shaved my m-moustache.”  


Louis still remembers it vividly. Every word, the way Zayn’s voice had shaken, the hurt and shame in her eyes. It still makes her feel the exact same rage. She’d told Zayn fiercely that she was beautiful, because she was - until Harry, Zayn was always the most beautiful person Louis has ever known, and she thought so even when they were kids. Like, Louis was outraged by the racism, obviously, but also by the idea that Zayn _wasn't_ the prettiest girl in their school. Louis told her she was the prettiest person she knew, that Tom was a troll, that everyone knows her family weren't sodding terrorists and that if they didn’t know that, they were an absolute moron and didn’t deserve Zayn’s attention.  


“And you don’t have a _moustache_. You have a coupla’ hairs. So do I, look. Yours are just dark. He’s a wanker and he can get fucked.”  


Zayn had giggled at Louis swearing, and she mumbled sadly that she still wanted him to like her. Louis tried to convince her that his opinion proved he wasn’t worth it, he didn’t deserve her, and after she finally agreed, Louis left to hunt down Tom and punch him in the face.  


She was suspended for two days, but it was worth it. And after that, Zayn was her best friend.  


Zayn was still Louis’s best friend when she took Liam under her wing, and the three of them quickly became thick as thieves. Their group of friends, rounded out with two girls named Leigh-Anne and Jesy, were probably on top of their college food chain, if Louis really thought about it. All five of them were accepted into Newcastle University, and all five of them decided to take a year off. They all needed a break from studying, some time to work shitty jobs, save money, travel a bit, party a lot, just be young and relatively stress-free.  


They met Harry, Niall, Jade, and Jesy their first year. Or, more accurately, their first day.  


Louis and her friends were living in student accommodation, and they’d all applied together for the same hall, so they ended up on the same floor in Castle Leazes. They each had their own room, but the rooms only had a bed, desk, wardrobe and washbasin. They shared two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a lounge with four strangers.  


The strangers were Harry, Niall, Jade, and Perrie. Perrie and Jade were only from South Shields, not far away at all, whereas Harry was from Cheshire and Niall had come over from Ireland. So Niall and Harry hadn't known anyone at all, and Louis immediately decided to take them under her wing. A handful of drunken nights later and they all became very comfortable with each other. Their doors were rarely locked; everyone came and went into each other’s rooms as they pleased. Louis always had someone to talk to, to have dinner with, do the laundry with. She was never alone, unless she wanted to be, which she rarely did. She loved being surrounded by her friend-family, her favourite people.  


So when the time came to choose housing for their second year, it seemed like a no-brainer. Louis wanted to live with these girls, all eight of them. Luckily there are large, old houses for rent just off-campus for this reason. Louis and Harry were in charge of finding the perfect place, because they’re both addicted to house-hunting, interior design and home renovation shows. And the place they found really is perfect. It’s a charming two-storey, conveniently has nine bedrooms of various sizes, three bathrooms, two average-sized living rooms and a kitchen much bigger than the one in their dorms. It has an attic and weird sloping ceilings, it’s made of wood and brick, white and red, and the outside looks like a huge fairytale cottage, old-fashioned and covered in overgrown plants. The size of the kitchen was a real plus, as were the two living areas, because nine people will want to watch different tv programs. And there’s a small balcony, and the backyard has a gorgeous entertainment area.  


Louis and Harry were charmed, and so sold.  


The rent split between the nine of them is easily manageable, will actually work out slightly cheaper than staying in the residence halls. Louis’s really, really excited to come back to uni next August, when their lease begins. They still have to decide who’s getting which room, but Louis doesn’t even care. She’s loved uni so far, and she’s positive it’s about to get even better.  


There’s only one complication: there’s something really fucking addictive about kissing Harry.  


There’s something addictive about Harry in general, Louis’s always thought so. From the instant they met, they were drawn together like magnets; Louis couldn’t’ve left Harry’s side that night if she wanted to. They talked and talked and talked for hours. Harry’s fascinating, quirky, and different from anyone Louis’s ever met. She’s sweetness personified, and her friendship honestly completes Louis. She became so important to Louis so quickly, she's everything Louis’s ever wanted or needed in a best friend, and Harry feels the same, so in the short time they've known each other, they've gotten three matching tattoos to commemorate their bond. Louis knows they’re borderline codependent on each other, and she doesn’t care. Harry’s endlessly supportive and uplifting; her friendship genuinely makes Louis a better person.

She’s also hands down the most beautiful person Louis’s ever known. Louis’s eyes are drawn to her whenever she’s in the room - between her long curly hair, her sparkling green eyes, her devastating dimples, it’s hard to know what draws Louis’s eye the most.

Except Louis knows. It’s the fact that Harry never, ever wears a bra. She’ll wear cleavage revealing dresses with plunging necklines, and her tits are almost always visible. They’re not small either, probably Cs, maybe Ds, just a bit too large for her lanky frame. Sometimes when she dances one will escape her dress, and Harry could never give a shit. And _one of her four fucking nipples is pierced_. 

Louis’s spent a lot of time thinking about Harry’s boobs. Harry’s boobs probably made her accept that she’s actually bi. She’s probably imagining the slide of her own tits against Harry’s at any given moment.

Harry’s just. She’s shameless. Louis’s never met anyone so comfortable in their own skin, like, she might as well be a nudist. Within a week of living in the halls, Louis had seen Harry naked more times than she could count, and she knew then that she was in for a rough time.

She was right, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

It doesn’t mean she’s in love with Harry, or anything like that. She’s just attracted to her, actually literally. That’s why she can’t help kissing her. It’s just a bit of fun, like Harry says.

That’s all it can be. Louis wouldn’t survive having actual feelings for Harry, she’s sure.

***

Louis’s woken up by warm skin against hers and arms wrapping around her waist.

“Hiya,” Harry whispers.

It’s dark, probably the middle of the night, and Louis grunts, hardly awake.

“Fancied a cuddle, that okay?” Harry whispers.

“‘Course, babe, always,” Louis mumbles sleepily.

Harry makes a pleased noise and burrows closer. And then Louis’s suddenly Awake, because Harry’s naked. That’s her boobs pressed against Louis’s back, her thighs pressed under Lous’s bum, her bare crotch against Louis - fuck.

It’s far from the first time they’ve cuddled naked. Harry sleeps naked, Louis herself only sleeps in knickers, and they both have a habit of sneaking into each other's rooms and crawling into bed, just because they like sleeping together. This isn’t anything unusual, in fact it’s basically the norm.

Every single one of Louis’s nerve endings is alight anyway. Every time. Her body just refuses to listen to her.

Harry pulls Louis closer and breathes in deeply - Louis can feel it.

“Everything alright, babes?” Louis whispers. She rolls over and pushes Harry over too, because she knows Harry prefers being the little spoon. (And Louis loves spreading her fingers across Harry’s stomach. It’s a win-win.)

(She gets flashed by Harry’s tits in the process, and the sight makes her pull Harry even closer to her. She’s only human.)

“Is now,” says Harry, tangling her bare legs with Louis’s. Louis’s all too aware of them, and of her own knickers flush against Harry’s bum. She’s honestly aching.

“Good,” Louis says, running her fingers over Harry’s ribs.

“Love you, Lou,” Harry mumbles, and Louis kisses her shoulder and tells her she loves her back.

She desperately, desperately wants to kiss Harry’s mouth. But they’re sober, they’re in bed, and there are very specific lines drawn here.

Stan definitely wouldn’t be okay with it. Harry probably wouldn’t even want it.

It dawns on her that there’s a time and a place that it’s okay for her to kiss Harry. Any other time is crossing a line. (Jesus, according to Stan, every time is crossing a line, and he has a point.) And Louis kind of hates that.

Fuck. Maybe she wants to kiss Harry all the time.

*

Having that realisation is genuinely annoying. Louis likes Stan. She could be happy with him. It’s really annoying that part of her wants to give that up, just because she wants to kiss someone who doesn’t even see her romantically.

It’s comfortable, with Stan. Already. He’s the kind of lad Louis really likes; he’s chill, he treats her like an equal, basically like a friend, which is what Louis’s into. She wants to be friends with the people she dates. They have the same taste in cartoons and comics and footy teams and music, which are Louis’s main interests. And he’s a massive stoner, which is Louis’s other main interest.

That’s actually basically how they got together. The funny thing about Stan is that Louis knew him as a child. They went to the same primary school, and they weren’t exactly friends, but they knew each other. He was cute, but he moved away when they were in year two. She hadn’t seen him since.

A few months ago, in her Intro to Creative Writing lecture, she’d seen his name on the sign-in sheet. It seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until the next week, when she was paired with him for an exercise, that they realised. He recognised her, although he was confused by her name, and then she remembered him properly. They ended up hanging out, smoking in his dorm, and then she invited him to come out with her friends. They got fucked up a few times, hooked up a few times. Louis felt awkward about it, in a way, because she didn’t really know if she wanted to be with him properly. She just liked him well enough, and he was there.

After the fourth time, the next day, Stan invited her over. He put on Adventure Time and offered her his bong.

An episode or two later, and he’d asked, “So, I don’t wanna be weird about this, but what exactly is it we’re doing?”

“Exactly?” Louis asked, looking from the bowl she was packing to Adventure Time on his laptop.

“Don’t be a smart arse,” he said, with a smile, because he knew by then that’s all she fucking is. “I mean, like, us. Are we just hooking up when we’re fucked? Or do you wanna, like, date?”

Louis felt itchy, because she couldn’t define what she wanted. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, we don’t have to talk about it,” he shrugged. “We could be, like, friends with benefits, or we could never do it again. I just wanna know where you’re at.”

And it was a weird time for Louis. Harry had been going on a lot of dates, and she’d been feeling left behind, in a way. She thought if she was seeing someone too, she’d feel less lonely. And she liked Stan. They fit together. If Louis was looking for someone to have a lowkey relationship with, Stan would be it.

“I don’t want  _nothing_ ,” she’d said. “Maybe we could take it slow.”

Stan nodded. “Do you wanna just say we’re seeing each other, then?”

Louis took the hit she’d been cradling throughout the conversation, closing her eyes for a moment after she exhaled. “Yeah, sure,” she said. “Why not?”

And that was it. They hadn’t really talked about it again, just casually hanging out and hooking up. He didn’t even mind that she’d kiss her friends, until she told him she was bi - her whole group has a penchant for kissing each other, he probably just thinks it’s what straight girls do. Like Harry said.

But after that, he’s told her he doesn’t like seeing her kissing anyone else, so they agreed not to. Louis supposes they’re exclusive without having actually said the words.

If she’s honest, she can admit that there’s no real fire between them. Kissing him’s nice, and the sex is fine, if a bit too vanilla. It’s probably one of the reasons Louis isn’t keen to get serious with him. Stan’s the kind of bloke an alternate, middle-aged version of herself might marry, because he’s comfortable and dependable and easy. Right now, though, if Louis’s going to be anyone’s girlfriend, there has to be passion.

Louis’s pretty sure there are two reasons she’s seeing Stan: they get on, and neither of them want to be alone. And honestly, she thinks those are decent reasons. She just sometimes wishes for more.

***

“Ladieeeees!” Jade yells, bouncing into Niall’s room. She’s got Jesy on her tails. Louis’s hanging out with Harry, Niall, and Zayn, watching telly while they wait for the others to come home from their final exams.

Louis thinks she can speak for everyone; they didn’t expect such high spirits. Louis herself is exhausted, she feels like she has an anxiety hangover from the stress of the last few weeks. Niall’s uncharacteristically quiet, and Harry’s been cuddled up to Louis ever since she got home. Zayn’s basically asleep. None of them are on Jade’s level.

“Wake up,” Jade cries, jumping on Niall’s bed and jostling them all.

Zayn inhales sharply and opens her eyes. “‘M awake,” she mumbles.

“‘Course you are, babes,” says Jade fondly. “We’ve got news!”

“Spit it out, then,” Louis says, reaching over for the remote to pause Parks.

“You know how we said we should all make sure we meet up over the hols?” Jesy says, coming closer and perching on the edge of Niall’s bed. The bed is positively full to burst now. “Well, me cousin offered us a place, if we wanna actually go somewhere - ”

“She’s playing it down, it’s in fucking _Magaluf_ ,” Jade bursts out. “Her cousin’s boyfriend’s dad has a proper fuckin’ holiday mansion, and they asked if we all wanted to come and stay!”

“All their friends had to bail,” Jesy explains. “But they still want to have a proper cracking holiday. I thought it might be nice, that way we’d all see each other over the hols.”

“Nice?! It sounds wicked,” Harry says, looking much more alert. Louis feels like Jade’s just given them all an adrenaline shot.

“I love Magaluf, me,” says Niall. “This’s the fuckin’ craic!”

Louis giggles, the way she just can’t help when Niall uses that word. She also finds it inherently hilarious that they’ve been offered a bloody holiday in Magaluf, it’s just so classic Geordie.

“Like a proper lads holiday,” Louis says, laughing to herself. Harry beams at her.

“We shouldn’t have to pay for anythin’, except food an’ booze an’ drugs,” Jesy says with a smile. “And if it’s too expensive, we could get a train instead of flyin’.”

“I’m all in,” Niall says.

“Me too,” says Zayn, and Louis and Harry agree.

“Summer in Spain,” Harry sighs happily against Louis’s shoulder. “I wonder if they have a pool.”

“Er, they do,” Jesy says with a smile. “I asked.”

Harry closes her eyes and smiles blissfully. “Wicked.”

Louis’s stomach flips. Her traitorous brain imagines Harry in swimmers - something she’s never seen before - and she swallows. The excitement mixed with apprehension is already burning her alive.

*

They get a month at home with their families before they’re off to Magaluf. Louis spends the time with her mountain of siblings and her mum, which is lovely; she’s missed them all dreadfully while she’s been up North. Now, though, she finds she misses her girls. She still sees most of them quite often, but Jade, Jesy, Niall and Harry aren’t from Doncaster, and no surprises, but  _fuck_  Louis misses Harry.

She texts Harry every day, just to see how her day’s been, and gets long, rambling, _delightful_ messages in response. Louis doesn’t normally have the patience for texting - she prefers to focus her energy and attention on the people around her. But she just misses Harry so fucking much, she’s breaking all her norms.

Louis finds she’s counting down the fucking days to Magaluf, and it’s about ninety per cent because she needs to fucking touch Harry again.

_Need a cuddle bad :(_ she finds herself texting Harry.

_Aw babe_ , Harry replies.  _is your mum around? I’m sure she’s missed giving you cuddles._

Louis’s stomach fills with butterflies, the way it always does when she sees  **Hazza <3** light up her phone. She smiles ruefully at the message - Harry’s sweet, but she’s not after hugs from her mum.

_Not enough_ , she texts.  _Need your cuddles :(_

_Awwww xxx our cuddles are def the best. I miss them too :(_  Harry replies, and then she sends a rainbow of heart emojis, and then a gif of a kitten curling up under a dog’s paw.

Louis heart reacts all of the messages.  _Five more days_ , she sends.

Harry heart reacts back, and then says,  _the gif is us. You’re the kitten xxx_

Louis angry reacts, and says  _oi! you’re the kitten!_  which of course means they have to spend thirty minutes sending dozens of gifs of kittens that remind them of each other. Louis loves her so much.

*

She misses Stan too. Of course she does. They text every now and then, and he doesn't bother her when she doesn’t feel like talking, which is nice. Louis invited him to Magaluf, because she genuinely likes having him around. He’s got a summer job, so he can only spare a week, but he’s coming.

Louis feels bad that she thinks that’s the best case scenario. She’s got a month with her girls, and a week with her - whatever Stan is. The guy she's seeing. That’s how she’d split it if she could’ve chosen herself.

A bunch of the lads from uni have decided to come, actually - they’re staying in a hostel not too far from the house. Louis fully expects they’ll be round all the time. She’s actually really excited, for more than just seeing Harry again. She hopes Jesy’s cousins are up for a good time.

It’s weird, really, to have a month at home, because she’s been sober for most of it. It almost feels like detoxing, she parties so much at uni and smokes weed almost every day. She’s not about to bring weed into her mother’s house, certainly not with her flock of impressionable siblings, so she’s been pretty dry for a month, except for the few days she spent at Zayn’s. It means she's buzzing for Magaluf.

But mostly she’s just buzzing to see her favourite people again.

*

Meeting up with the girls at the airport feels weirdly like coming home. It’s strange to have that feeling at an airport, when she’s literally leaving the country, Louis thinks. But it’s hard not to feel that way when Harry drops her bags and sprints from the check-in to the entrance in order to scoop Louis up in a hug.

Harry's always beside her after that, and they’re almost always touching, like they’re making up for lost time. She's wearing a jumpsuit with cut-outs around the torso, without a bra, of course. It's distracting, and Louis's distracted for so long that she doesn't realise Zayn's looking peaky until they're walking towards security, and then she feels like proper shit.

Zayn’s never flown before, hadn’t even had a passport until they planned this trip, Louis knew that. She hadn't realised how anxious Zayn's feeling, about everything from security to flying. Luckily, Liam and Niall have noticed, and haven't left her side. Liam’s always been exceedingly protective of Zayn, and Niall’s travelled all over Europe, so they’ve basically appointed themselves Zayn’s guardians. It’s cute, honestly, except when Louis joked about the plane doing a loop-de-loop and Liam almost murdered her.

“You know why Zayn was anxious about security, don’t you?” Leigh-Anne asks while they’re waiting at their gate.

Louis looks over at the bookshop, where Liam’s trying to help Zayn find some books to distract her on the flight. Louis’s known Zayn for so long, and she knows Zayn gets anxious about a lot of things that Louis doesn’t normally think about. She hadn’t questioned it.

Until now.

“Oh, shit,” she says. “Because she’s Muslim.”

“Bingo,” says Leigh-Anne. “I mean, I’m uncomfortable myself - you always feel like they’re super suspicious of you, y’know? And depending on who’s there, things can go very wrong very fast.”

“Even if you’ve done nothing wrong,” Louis says. Fuck. It’s such bullshit. She’s so angry, she’s ready to go back to the security clearance and give everyone in Heathrow a piece of her mind. She wants to scream at every single person in this fucking airport.

Leigh-Anne looks amused, like she can read her mind. “Don’t make a scene, love.”

Louis sighs. “I feel like a fucking idiot, I should’ve known.”

“Well,” Leigh-Anne shrugs. “You know now.”

She’s right. Louis excuses herself and marches off to the bookshop, determined to help make this flight as painless as possible for Zayn.

*

Zayn's sat between Liam and Niall, which they planned, and Louis's behind her, which is just a happy coincidence. Harry's on her right side, the window side, and Perrie's on her left, with Jade, Leigh-Anne, and Jesy behind them. Before the plane takes off, Niall and Liam are holding Zayn's hands, and Louis reaches forward to touch her shoulders. Harry's recording the take-off out her window, so she's fine. Once they're in the air, Zayn relaxes a bit. Liam refuses to pull up her window shade anyway.

"We should all order drinks and then pass them over to Zayn," Perrie suggests. "If she's drunk it'll be easier."

Louis laughs and sticks her head between Zayn and Niall's seats to ask.

Zayn's alright after a few drinks, and she, Liam, and Niall are watching The Winter Soldier in unison on their little TVs. Louis turns her attention back to Harry.

The rest of the flight is easy; Louis spends it watching romantic comedies with Harry. Louis worries about Zayn again when they’re about to land, but Zayn’s asleep. She sleeps through the entire landing, and Liam shushes Louis and Niall and will only wake her once people start standing up. By gently caressing her cheek. Usually Louis makes fun of Liam for how soft she is with Zayn, but Louis’s feeling soft towards Zayn herself right now, so she’ll allow it.

***

The house is absolutely gorgeous. It genuinely is a mansion; Louis can’t believe her eyes. She thinks she might be in paradise.

The girls go mad, running about picking bedrooms, and Harry nudges Louis. “Wanna share with me?”

Obviously.

“Obviously,” Louis says. “C’mon, before the best beds are taken.”

They end up in a room with Niall and Perrie, who have both claimed the two single beds. All that’s left is a huge, luxurious king bed. Which Louis will share with Harry.

She isn’t sure if this is paradise or hell.

Harry whoops and jumps on the bed, and Niall says, “Now, you lot, no funny business while we’re in the room.”

Harry laughs. “Try an’ stop me,” she says, winking at Louis.

Mm. Probably hell.

*

Definitely hell, Louis decides when they’ve gathered outside to have drinks by the pool; this is definitely hell, because Harry’s wearing the tiniest yellow bikini Louis’s ever seen. It’s fucking obscene, is what it is, and Harry’s just sitting there, sipping her vodka orange through a straw, completely casual.

“This is heaven, innit Lou,” Harry says happily.

Louis looks at her, at how happy she is. She’s so beautiful.

“Yeah, it is,” Louis breathes.

*

They meet Jesy’s cousin William and his boyfriend Edward that night. They’re lovely guys, and they obviously know Jesy, but they've also met Leigh-Anne and Zayn before, so they fit in pretty seamlessly.

Jesy suggests they play a drinking game, “so Will and Ed can get to know ya's”, so William finds a pack of cards and they set up Kings.

Louis makes sure she’s sat between Harry and Zayn, her social rocks, because she feels a bit uncomfortable. She hates herself for it, but it’s the way she often feels around members of her community, because she’s not sure if they think she belongs. People dismiss the B in LGBT so easily, especially because she’s currently dating a guy. She just wants to be accepted as queer, because she sure as fuck isn’t straight.

She wants to tell them she’s like them, but she doesn’t know how to do that without sounding like a twat.

The other reason she feels uncomfortable around William and Edward is because they’re so fucking obviously, deeply in love. It makes her heart hurt, because it’s what she wants.  So she does what she always does when she’s uncomfortable: she overcompensates.

That’s a little unfair; Harry would say she becomes ‘the life of the party’. Sometimes she tries to think of herself the way Harry does, but she honestly feels like it over-inflates her ego.

She takes it upon herself to make up the rules, Harry and Liam helping, and then she puts herself in charge of the rules. It just means that the already alcohol-stained piece of paper sits in front of her and she tells whoever draws a card what they have to do, but it gives her a task.

Domineering the game means that her friends turn on her, nominating her to drink or strip whenever they have a chance, but that’s fine, it just makes Louis relax faster. And then Harry draws a six, which Louis had decided earlier should be spin the bottle. Because she’s an idiot.

Harry spins, and Louis doesn’t want the bottle to land on her, but she definitely doesn’t fucking want it to land on anyone else. 

… Okay. She wants it to land on her. She’s thirteen years old, apparently.

The bottle takes forever to stop, which is excruciating, but it stops on Louis. Of course it does.

Harry giggles, and Louis looks at her. She’s still only in her bikini, which means her boobs are literally held up by two tiny scraps of fabric and some string, and Louis just - Louis’s just supposed to kiss her, platonically, and not touch, and it’s agony, it honestly is.

“S’if I need a bottle to tell me to kiss you,” Harry says, still giggling, and Louis fucking melts.

The kiss happens quicker than Louis’s used to - usually, with Harry, there’s a lot of build up beforehand, but everyone’s watching, and that makes it so different. Usually Louis would be hyper focused on Harry’s mouth, her eyes, her curls, her smell - and she is - but she’s more focused on the fact that everyone’s watching.

So Harry ducks in faster than she usually does, but the kiss itself - it’s just as perfect as they always are. It’s Harry’s soft lips and her cold, hard tongue piercing, it’s Louis’s body lighting up like she’s been struck by lightning, it’s the most instinctual push and pull, it’s this feeling of everything clicking together, like missing puzzle pieces finally found.

It goes on for longer than it probably should, but it’s so hard to pull away from. And Harry doesn’t, but Louis does, because she becomes all too aware of being watched.

Everyone whoops, except Liam, who looks annoyingly concerned. Louis’s sure they’re going to have a Talk at some point, and she’s really not looking forward to it.

She turns her attention to Harry instead. She’s flushed, her hair falling in front of her face, and she’s smiling bashfully at the attention. 

Louis pushes Harry’s curls out of her face, tucks them behind her ear, and Harry turns her smile onto her. 

“We’re good at that,” Harry says, her nose scrunched up happily.

Louis can’t help laughing, and as always, she ignores her stupid fucking longing and focuses on how good it feels to be Harry’s favourite friend.

*

Afterwards, they’re in the pool, under the bright full moon. Harry’s chatting away with Edward about some book they’ve both read, and Louis’s chilling with Niall. Then Niall gets out to go to the loo, and William swims over to Louis.

“So, how long have you been into Harry?” he asks, and Louis chokes on air.

So much for worrying about how to tell them she’s bi.

She’s stunned that he’s seen through her, and she’s drunk, and all she can do is laugh. “I don’t know exactly,” she answers honestly. “Could be a few months, could be as long as I’ve known her.” She shrugs. “Took me a while to figure it out. I’m not sure I have figured it out.”

“Looks pretty clear to me,” William says. “You should tell her how you feel.”

Louis frowns. “She’s straight,” she says, and William bursts out laughing.

“Really?” he says, when he sees she’s serious. “You believe straight girls kiss each other like that?”

“I mean, yeah,” Louis says, because she’s pretty sure they do. “And like, I’m not straight, so maybe that’s why it looked like more than it was.”

Hm. That was a pretty casual way of outing herself. Louis mentally pats herself on the back for it.

William shakes his head. “Seems like more than that, that’s all.”

And like, Louis wants to believe him, she does. Desperately, even. But - he doesn’t even know Harry. Their relationship might be weird, and it might not make sense, but Harry’s weird. Her ideas of normal platonic relationships are different to most people’s, Louis’s sure.

She doesn’t know how to explain that without coming off as overly defensive, so instead she asks how he met Edward, and floats in the water as he regales her with the dramatic twist of fate that led them to each other.

*

The next morning, Louis wakes up face to face with Harry. She’s still asleep, and their arms are around one another, their legs jammed together. Louis’s skin feels sticky from sweat and pool water, and she’s pretty sure she’s only wearing her knickers, because it feels like every part of her is touching Harry somehow.

The air con hums, and Louis’s suddenly grateful for the fact that this is a mansion, and there’s an air con in every room. Waking up basically glued to Harry would be way less fun in the heat, and this way Louis can enjoy it a bit.

There’s enough light pouring in for Louis to guess it’s a reasonable time to wake up, but she really doesn’t want to. She stares at Harry instead, takes in the perfect sweep of her eyelashes, how beautiful she looks when she’s sleeping. Louis loves her so much it hurts, and she’s about to pull herself away, to try to stop the ache in her chest, but then Harry stirs.

Her eyes are still closed, but her eyebrows furrow, and then she makes a small noise of complaint and turns her head, nuzzling into Louis’s arm and the pillow.

“You stare so loudly,” Harry says, her voice thick, and Louis grins. Harry hasn’t let her go, if anything her grip has gotten tighter, and when she’d turned she’d bared her neck. Louis can’t resist cuddling closer, dropping her face into Harry’s collarbone.

“Payback,” Louis says. “For your creepy frog stare.”

“Heeeey,” Harry pouts. Louis can't see her, but she knows she's pouting. “It’s a loving frog stare, thanks very much.”

Louis giggles. “Least you admit you’re a frog.”

Harry noses at her cheek, then says, “Ribbit,” right in Louis’s ear.

Louis cracks up, and Niall throws a pillow at them from across the room.

*

The day, Louis decides, is far too hot and humid to go outside. She doesn’t plan to spend all of her time here indoors, but today, she’s hungover and it’s humid and she’s choosing the air con over the pool.

Even despite Harry sunbathing outside.

Louis has a good enough view from the lounge, with its gigantic glass doors, and besides, if she were outside, she’d just be ogling Harry like a creep.

This is way more subtle.

Except it really isn’t, because she can’t stop staring. Harry’s laid out on a chair, in her white bug-eye sunglasses and another skimpy bikini, a pale pink one this time. She must have already gotten some sun at home these holidays, because her skin is slightly darker than the milky pale Louis’s used to. 

It’s honestly overwhelming. Louis loves every curve, every blemish, every spare nipple on Harry’s body, and seeing her like this is almost too much. Louis desperately wants to lay her out, suck the moisture out of her bikini bottoms, and eat her out til she cries. 

So, Louis need a distraction. Zayn’s indoors with her, and they’ve found Rockband 3, so that’s their plan for the day sorted. Liam and Jade quickly join them, and everyone else mingles in and out, sometimes watching, sometimes playing.

Louis’s sufficiently distracted from Harry for a good half an hour at least - she gets very passionate about the game and her percentages. But then Leigh-Anne sweet-talks her into handing over her guitar, so Louis sits out a round, and her attention is immediately called outside.

Harry and Niall are playing chicken against Perrie and William. It seems like it’s a tie, both Harry and Perrie equally terrible at it, until Harry somehow pushes Perrie over.

And it’s like it happens in slow motion. Louis watches as Perrie loses her balance, reaches out, and grabs something as she falls. The string of Harry’s bikini top. Which comes loose, and falls into the water with Perrie.

So Harry’s sat there, on Niall’s shoulders, her arms in the air in victory, her tits fucking glistening in the sunshine and _bouncing_.

Louis feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She wrestles the microphone off Liam, because obviously she fucking needs her distraction. 

She has no idea how she’s supposed to survive this summer.

***

Harry has loads of friends, and she’s flirty with every single one of them. Back home, it drives Louis mad.

Harry flirts with anyone, everyone, regardless of gender, which maybe Louis should find comforting, like a statement on Harry’s sexuality. She doesn’t. She just feels jealous and angry. It’s worse that Louis’s sure Harry isn’t like that with her. They’re close, obviously, co-dependent almost, and Harry will kiss her at the drop of a hat, but she doesn’t _flirt_. She doesn’t bat her eyelashes or tease or giggle like she does with Mitch or Ed or Nick - fuck's sake, Louis’s pretty sure Nick’s gay, and Harry still flirts with him more than she flirts with Louis.

With Louis, Harry’s simply weird. Weirder than usual, that is. She’s always leaning into Louis’s space, like if they’re not touching she’ll die, but sometimes she’s aloof and distant. Sometimes Louis can read her like a book, but sometimes she’s a book with no words. Harry can spend half a night ignoring Louis, and the other half staring at her intensely from across the room. Louis thinks she’s impossible to truly figure out.

She’s an absolute enigma, and Louis doesn't know what any of it _means_.

Here, though, it’s different somehow. Louis doesn’t know what it is - maybe it’s being in a new environment, or because there are less people here she knows. Maybe this is Holiday Harry. Either way, Harry’s suddenly attached herself to Louis’s side. They’ve been here for almost three weeks, now, and Harry hasn’t been distant a single day. And especially not when they go out. When they’re out, Harry doesn’t even bother with anyone else, doesn’t flirt with anyone. All she wants to do is dance with Louis.

Tonight, her eyes are blown and glazed from the coke they’d gotten from William, and they’re trained on Louis. She’s sweaty, and she’s not at all bothered by it, but it means that her sheer blouse is sticking to her skin. It was already see-through, black and covered in little sparkles, but there’s an opaque area around the chest. That was helpful before, especially because Harry isn’t wearing a bra, but most of the buttons have come undone, and now that the shirt’s sticking to her sweaty skin - nothing at all is left to the imagination.

Which is what happens basically every night - Harry’s already revealing outfit becomes even more revealing the more disheveled she gets - but Louis’s never going to get used to it.

She decides, in her own drunken state, that she should cover Harry up, and that the best way to do that is to press herself to Harry’s front. To be fair, she usually thinks this is the best thing to do. She usually feels like she should stand in between Harry and other people’s eyes. And right now, the coke is telling her that she’s made a brilliant choice.

Harry’s hands pull her even closer, and the music is pounding through Louis’s body, but especially her heart. She holds onto Harry’s hips, Harry’s boobs press against hers, their sweaty skin sticks together, and Harry shimmies one of her thighs in between Louis’s.

Louis finds herself staring at Harry’s mouth, the way she always ends up doing. It’s like this hypnotic pull, she can’t look away. And her body knows - she _knows_  - this is when they make out.

This is what they’ve been doing for weeks. Stan’s not here, and he even said it was fine, because he's _not here_ , which Louis doesn't fully understand but she's not complaining about. So there’s nothing stopping her except the niggling voice in the back of her brain saying Harry doesn’t want this.

Harry shuts that voice up every time, though.

Not even by kissing Louis, either. It’s in the way her eyes are focused on Louis’s lips too. The way she sways even closer, just not quite close enough, and the way her eyes close when Louis leans in further, so that their noses bump together. Harry’s open mouth brushes Louis’s cheek, and then they just hover over one another. She can smell the sweet wine on Harry’s breath. The tension is delicious; Louis could live in this moment forever.

They’re still dancing, barely, and Louis moves her hands from Harry’s hips to wrap around her waist. It pulls her in even closer, and Harry gasps a tiny bit and then her mouth lands on Louis’s.

There’s nothing better than this. Harry’s lips are incredible, so soft and fucking plush, she’s the only person whose closed-mouth kisses make Louis feel electric, like there’s sparks under her skin. She’s the only person Louis’s ever kissed who makes closed-mouth kisses exciting; Louis’s on fire at every brush of her lips.

Harry groans when Louis sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, Louis feels it, and she also feels Harry’s hands move down to grope her bum. By the time their tongues meet, Louis has her hands tangled in Harry’s messy hair. Every time, Louis's shocked by how much _better_ Harry's tongue piercing makes this. She could spend forever playing with it; it's fun, pushing the little ball around with her own tongue, it feels nice, and she knows Harry _loves_ it, that it pulls at nerve endings in a good way.

Harry tastes like the moscato she’s been drinking all night, and she kisses Louis like she can’t get enough. Faintly Louis thinks that it’s so unlike how they kiss their other mates, which are usually friendly, platonic pecks. It’s always different with Harry - it’s passionate, and world-tilting, and never-ending. Nothing matters but Harry, nothing else even _exists_.

Harry flicks her tongue, her piercing sliding nicely against Louis's gums, and Louis responds by pulling on her hair, perhaps a touch too hard. And Harry breaks the kiss to moan.

Louis stares at her, and Harry stares back, panting softly.

“I was gonna apologise, but…” Louis says.

“No,” Harry says quickly. “No, I - I really like that.” She smiles, self-deprecating but charming like only she can.

Louis grins. “Good,” she says, and ducks back in to kiss her again.

She has to stop after a minute, though. She tells Harry she’s going to get them both some water, which she is, but she also just can’t stop thinking about Harry liking pain. She already knows about some of Harry’s kinks, but she’s never been directly _involved_ before. She’s aching with it, with how badly she wants to see how far Harry’s pain kink goes, and she couldn’t keep kissing her when that’s on her mind. It’s far too much for a kiss between mates.

***

Louis opens her eyes to another morning wrapped around Harry. It’s become routine now, even moreso than back at uni. It’s cliché, but Louis feels like she sleeps better with Harry. She doesn’t know how she’s going to go back to sleeping alone; part of her wants to suggest they share a room at the new house, as ridiculous as that would be.

Harry stirs just as Louis starts to think she might like to go for a wee.

“Mmm, morning Lou,” she says in her beautiful morning voice. Louis wants to hear it every morning for the rest of her life.

“Morning, angel,” she says instead of her silly thoughts.

They’ve woken up spooning again, Harry’s the little spoon, and she wriggles in Louis’s arms and turns until they’re facing each other.

“How do you still smell nice?” Louis mutters, nosing into Harry’s neck. Her skin is warm and smells sweet, her hair like flowers against Louis’s face.

Louis, meanwhile, feels like she’s dying. Something definitely died in her mouth last night, and she feels gross, like a swamp monster. Harry smells like a fucking fairy.

“Didn’t know I did,” Harry mumbles. Even her morning breath is fine, it’s ridiculous. “I feel like death.”

“Well you smell like daisies,” Louis says. “’S’very unfair.”

Harry giggles. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Would you like me to stink myself up a bit?”

Louis snorts. “I don’t even know how you’d go about doing that, but yes, it would make me feel better.”

“Alright,” Harry says sleepily, snuggling even closer. “I’ll stop getting up at 6am to sneak in a shower.”

Louis was prepared to ignore the weak signals from her bladder and cuddle Harry back to sleep, but that makes her laugh too hard.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says fondly. “And I’ve gotta pee. Lemme up.”

Harry whines and complains, but she lets Louis go, and when Louis comes back, Harry’s passed out again. Louis smiles at her from the doorway, and then she hears the telltale _click! bubble! whoosh!_ that means someone’s taking a hit in the lounge, so she wanders off in that direction.

After she joins William and Jesy and takes a hit herself, she finds she feels pretty content. Her first bong of the day’s always the most relaxing, but it’s more than that, it’s the way things are with Harry, this comfortable intimacy they’ve fallen into. It makes her happy in a really simple way.

*

By the time they’re at the club that night, her sexual frustration has replaced her contentment. She’s been dancing with Harry, and they’ve already snogged, and it was as perfect as always, but Louis’s right back to unhappy pining. She follows Zayn outside, well aware of how sulky she’s suddenly being.

“So, you and Harry,” Zayn says after she lights her cig.

“Me and Harry,” Louis stalls, sucking on her own to buy some time.

Zayn rolls her eyes. “You’re transparent, you know.”

Louis frowns at her. “No, I’m not,” she says.

Zayn laughs. “Yes, you are,” she says. “I can read you like a book when you’re into someone. And I’ve never seen you  _this_ into anyone before.”

Louis feels her frown turn into a pout. She knows that, knows that Zayn always sees through her, and usually she’s fine with it. But she really, _really_ doesn’t want to be obvious about this. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all she can say.

Zayn scoffs. “You do,” she says, then sighs. “Is that your stance then? Denial?”

“Yep,” Louis says, taking a drag. “We only kiss when we’re drunk. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Wow,” says Zayn, her eyes wide and clearly screaming that Louis’s an idiot. But Louis isn't wrong, exactly - just because it means something for her - they're still always drunk, and it means nothing to Harry.

It's actually something she's been struggling with lately. It doesn't feel right, that they're always intoxicated, especially because Louis's getting something out of it that Harry isn't. Louis's enjoying it on a different level. It makes her feel predatory, in a way, because she's sure Sober Harry wouldn't want to kiss her the way she does when she's drunk. It seems wrong, like she's preying on her straight friends.

So Louis just shrugs, and then she sees Harry stumbling over to them. She always wears glittery ankle boots with a chunky heel, and she loses whatever semblance of balance she has when she drinks. Louis's always half-convinced she's going to break an ankle when they go out. 

“Hiiiiii,” Harry says when she reaches them, her cheeks flushed and her smile happy. “I found you!”

“That you did, sunshine,” Louis says fondly, reaching out to steady her. Fuck what Zayn thinks.

“C’n I’ve one?” Harry asks, nudging Louis, just like always. Harry doesn’t buy her own cigarettes, ever, but she takes Louis’s when she’s drunk - or whenever she finds Louis smoking, to be more accurate.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” Louis says, pulling one out of the pack and placing it between Harry’s plush lips, as Harry giggles and Zayn presumably rolls her eyes. Louis doesn’t bother using her lighter; she lights Harry’s smoke with the tip of her own, which is almost a butt at this point, so her face is right in front of Harry’s.

It’s more sensual than it has any right to be.

Harry’s not exactly a novice smoker, but somehow she coughs on her first drag and splutters smoke everywhere. 

“Have my drink,” Zayn says, handing it to Harry, as Louis rubs her back.

Harry sucks at the straw, so of course that’s all Louis can see, and then she looks at Louis with watery eyes. “That was embarrassing,” she says with a charming smile.

Louis laughs. “Yeah, you’re lucky I know you can do better,” she says. “Won’t judge you on this one go.”

Harry giggles. “You’ve never judged me on anything,” she says. “Who patiently lights my bong for me every single time?”

Louis can’t help the smile that takes over her face, even as Zayn laughs. 

“Louis? Patient?” she says, then gives Louis a very ‘I told you so’ look.

“Only for special people,” Louis says, then realises, shit, that’s exactly Zayn’s point. “Not tossers like you.”

“Not anyone,” Zayn says meaningfully. Louis flicks her off as she lights up a new cig.

“Tosser,” she says.

Harry looks confused. “You’ve lost me,” she says.

“Ignore us, Zayn’s being a muppet,” Louis says. 

Harry squints between them, like she’d rather figure it out than let it go, then she shrugs. “Moving on, then,” she says. “How do you feel about a swim when we get back to the house? I’m really feeling the need to swim in the moonlight.”

Louis smiles, and when she looks at Zayn, she finds her smiling fondly too. Harry’s just far too endearing.

“Yeah, babe,” Louis says. “Sounds lovely.”

Harry’s nose twitches like she's going to sneeze, and then she beams. Louis would do anything to keep her smiling like that. It's a really dangerous feeling.

***

The boys come out, and not a moment too soon. Having Stan around chills Louis out a bit; she drinks a bit less, gets stoned a bit more. He sort of centres her, gives her something to focus on besides her mad attraction to Harry.

She was right about the boys; they're at the house all the time, only really going back to their hostel to sleep. She doesn't blame them, and after not seeing them for about two months, it's nice having them around. They also all love William and Edward, but that probably has a lot to do with the fact that Edward’s rich as fuck, has a huge stash of coke and is more than happy to share.

They have a big game of I Never before they go out, and there aren't enough chairs, so Louis ends up with Harry sat on her lap. Stan's sat across from them, and he doesn't look annoyed, but Louis's trying to pretend Harry's anyone else, for his sake.

“I’ve never kissed a girl,” says Edward, and everyone at the table groans and drinks, including William. Edward looks very happy with himself.

“I’ve never had sex with a girl,” says William.

Stan, Ed, Mitch, Shawn, and Calvin drink, but not Edward or Nick. Louis feels more confident in her assumption that he’s gay. She wishes she could remember if he’s actually out.

She’s more interested in the girls, though, obviously. Zayn’s the only one who drinks, without giving an explanation, which Louis's going to have to remember to dig into, because _what_? Then Louis looks around at the rest of the girls. They’d all drank for kissing a girl, but they’re not drinking for sleeping with one, and it makes Louis so uncomfortable to realise she’s in the same position.

She’s never fucked a girl. And she knows that doesn’t make her any less bi, she _does_ , but the fact that she’s no different to her straight friends - it’s upsetting.

They keep going around the circle, but Louis’s tuned out. All she can think about is how unhappy she is with herself, how maybe she’s wasting her time with Stan.

She thinks of all the times she’s grinded against Harry’s leg, which is the closest she’s come to having sex with a girl. That’s honestly tragic.

She’s shaken out of that train of thought by everyone laughing. Harry nudges her and tells her to drink.

“What? What was it?” Louis asks.

Harry gestures to Ed. “This wanker would like everyone to know that he hasn’t seen me naked.”

“Oh,” Louis says. No wonder most of them had drank. Louis drains the rest of her cup, and Harry laughs.

Luckily for Louis, she’s dislodged Harry and gotten up to find the vodka and refill her drink when Nick says, “I’ve never  _wanted_  to see Harry naked.”

Harry laughs. “Shut up, Grimmy, my body’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, shut up,” Niall says, taking a sip of her drink. “I like seeing how free Harry is. It’s empowering.”

“See,” Harry says smugly.

Louis’s stomach writhes, she’s so fucking jealous of how easy it is for Niall to say shit like that. None of the other girls drink, but the straight boys do - except Stan, which Louis thinks was nice of him if an obvious lie. Louis doesn’t think it’s possible to be into girls and not want to see Harry naked.

By the time Louis sits back down with her drink, Zayn’s said she’s never gone skinny-dipping, and everyone’s outraged.

“We’re doing that before we leave,” Harry promises, and Zayn makes a face.

And like, Louis doesn’t need to see Harry naked yet again, but she still _wants_ to. She’s so glad she downed her drink before Nick’s turn, because it’s not something she wants to admit to.

*

It’s different, going out with the boys there as well. Louis’s had three weeks of Harry’s attention, three weeks focused on Harry, and now not only does she have to focus on Stan as well, but it feels like Harry’s being weirdly distant. Or maybe it’s just that she has more people to focus on too.

That’s the thing about having the boys out here too, especially because Harry’s close with them - it’s too much like it is back home. Usually Louis has to share Harry’s attention. She just got used to the last few weeks.

Instead of being glued to Louis’s side, like she was just two days ago, Harry’s playing pool with Ed, Mitch, and Jesy, and she and Mitch must be on the same team, because after every time he sinks a ball, she kisses him on the lips.

It's so fucking annoying that Louis's so annoyed by it. She knows Harry thinks of Mitch as a brother. She knows it means nothing.

It probably bothers her so much because it shoves it in her face that her own kisses with Harry mean nothing. But mostly it bothers her because she's a jealous cow.

***

It's their last night in Magaluf and Louis is absolutely mortal. They'd started at home, and then found a beach party, and now they're in this club and she's dancing with Harry.

Harry's eyes are so deep and fucking intense, her hair is everywhere and she's so beautiful. Louis's been staring at her all night, because she's only wearing a lacy bralette and short shorts. Louis sees her everyday and she still can't believe how gorgeous she is. Every day, she takes Louis's fucking breath away.

Harry pulls her closer, her mouth hovering near Louis's, and Louis can't think of a single reason not to kiss her.

*

She remembers a few minutes later, when Calvin pulls her away to tell her she's pissed off Stan. She finds him coming away from the bar, two beers in hand, and he glares at her. "Seriously?"

"I'm sorry," she says helplessly. "You know it doesn't mean anything."

"That's not the fucking point, Lou," he says.

"Don't call me Lou," Louis says mindlessly.

Stan frowns. "Look, you just - you can't do that when I'm right fucking _here_."

"I'm _sorry_ ," Louis says, meaning it, but then she walks away, because fuck, she knows she can't make him any promises.

She heads out to the terrace smoking area to light up and calm down. That’s where Liam finds her.  


“Are you really gonna keep doing this, babe?” Liam asks. She sounds tired, but she looks concerned.  


Louis appreciates that, but she’s really not in the mood for one of Liam’s sensible lectures. Uni’s loosened Liam up a lot, but she still goes into stern parent mode when she’s worried. Louis knows it’s how she cares, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling judged.  


She almost tells Liam to fuck off, and then she sighs. Liam’s heart’s in the right place, after all. “I’m not tryin' to upset him.”  


“I know that,” Liam says gently. “I do. I just - I don’t understand. If you know kissing Harry upsets him, then - I mean, he’s your boyfriend, so - ”  


“He’s not,” Louis interrupts. “He’s not me _boyfriend_. We’re just dating.”  


It’s an important distinction, she thinks. They’re not that serious. Not yet. Maybe not ever.  


“C’mon, Tommo,” Liam says. Her puppy dog eyes are very earnest. “You’re exclusive, yeah?”  


Louis shrugs. “I guess.”  


“I just wanna know why,” Liam says. “Why do you keep doing it when you know it upsets him?”  


Louis takes a drag of her cig to stall. There’s only one answer, and she doesn’t want to say it. She can’t say that she physically can’t stay away.  


“I don’t, like, initiate anything, not anymore,” she says instead. It’s a poor excuse, and she knows Liam thinks so too, because she makes this tsking sound.  


“You haven’t told her to stop,” Liam points out, and then, softer, she says, “I’ve seen you with her, babe. It looks - I know what it looks like from the outside, and the fact that you don’t kiss her first kinda means nothing. You _want_ to be kissing her.”  


“Answered your own question there, then, didn’t you,” Louis says, uncomfortable. She takes another drag.  


“You’re doing it because you want to?” Liam frowns. “It just - it seems unfair, mate.”  


She has a point. “I know.”  


“What if - like, what if it was him, kissing someone else? How would you feel? ‘Cause if you were okay with it - like, maybe you should have an open relationship. Maybe that’ll help.”  


Louis thinks about it. And yeah - maybe she’s using Stan as a distraction from her feelings for Harry. She can admit that. But she does genuinely like him. And she’s always been possessive of the people she likes. Jealous. She doesn’t know if she could handle an open relationship.  


… So it’s unfair of her to expect him to be okay with her kissing someone else. Fuck.  


She stubs out her cigarette. “No, you’re right,” she says. “It’s unfair. It needs to stop.”  


Liam looks pleased. Probably because Louis hardly ever agrees with her lectures. “For your sake as well as his,” she says. “It’s not fair to you either.”  


Because Harry’s straight. Jesus. It’s always so unnerving, the way Liam (and Zayn, for that matter) can see right through her.  


***

When they leave for their flight, as Louis’s saying goodbye to William, he pulls her aside and tells her to fucking tell Harry how she feels. He says it’s obvious Harry feels the same.

Louis just nods, agrees, doesn’t correct him. But he’s wrong, and Louis’s already made up her mind.

There are so many reasons she needs to stop this thing with Harry. Starting with Stan’s feelings, and ending with her own and Harry being straight. Somewhere in the middle, though, is the fact that Louis cannot, absolutely cannot, let her stupid feelings ruin the group.

She can’t even define exactly what her feelings _are_. She doesn’t want to let herself, because if she can believe that whatever attachment she has to Harry means nothing, then she can put a stop to it. And she won’t ruin anything.

Because the group is so important. It’s important to her, it’s important to all of them, but most of all, Louis thinks, it’s important to Harry.

Harry had explained it to her one night last year. Within a few weeks of living in the halls, Louis and Harry had started spending the nights they didn’t have early classes the next day under Louis’s sheets, whispering secrets to each other, in their own private little world. It’s how they became so comfortable sharing a bed, and how they became so close so quickly. After a few weeks of that, Louis felt like she’d known Harry for years, her whole life even.

So, one night like that, Harry had said she really hoped that everyone on their floor would become best friends. They were definitely all friends at that point, but Louis knew what Harry meant, that they’d develop the kind of closeness they have today. So she said she felt the same, and Harry told her that she’d never had anything like that before.

Louis was surprised to hear that, because Harry was so beloved at uni. Louis had already basically assumed it was impossible to meet Harry and not fall at least a little bit in love with her.

But Harry said that she’d had lots of friends, despite always being a bit quirky and weird. People found her charming and likeable, but it rarely went much deeper than that. She had one best friend back home, and she had her older sister and her mum, and other than that she didn’t really feel close to anyone. And she loved who she had, but she’d always wanted a group of like-minded friends who deeply connected, who loved and supported each other. Wanted it desperately, she said.  


Just for that, Louis’s always tried to pull the group together as much as possible. It’s partly why she insisted on them all finding a house together. And Harry needs it, she’s fucking _thrived_ and flourished as the group has. Louis will do anything to keep it intact, without any fractures.  


Like the kind she would cause if she ever told Harry that she needs to stop kissing her because she’s afraid she might be in love with her.  


She can’t be the girl who makes everything awkward because she has feelings for her straight best friend. Whatever her feelings are, they’re unrequited. She needs to remember that and move on. And tell Harry that she’s trying to make a go of it with Stan.  


***  


Uni starts back up again, and it’s good in some ways and bad in others. It’s amazing living with her best friends - even though she didn’t have a whole summer without seeing them, it’s nice finding a new normal in the house, getting back into the routine of courses and work and living together. Classes are good because they’ve just started, and because Louis actually likes the look of everything she’s got this term.  


Things are good with Stan, as well - they’ve slowed down since Magaluf, which should be weird, seeing as they weren’t going very fast before that. They’re hanging out maybe once a week and having sex even less often. But they’re not kissing anyone else. It was a bit awkward at first, the first time they hung out after Magaluf. Eventually, though, they got baked and watched cartoons, and things eased back into a kind of comfortable normalcy. And it’s fine, but if she starts to think about it, she feels awful, because she’s just not into this as much as he is. She knows she’s using him to distract herself from Harry.

Things with Harry are… fine? But also not fine. Louis doesn’t know. She hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with her before they left Magaluf, so she spent the trip home glued to Stan’s side, a sharp contrast from her trip there. She wanted to talk with Harry in person, alone, and she didn’t get a chance until they all moved into the house before autumn term.  


They’d collapsed on Harry’s unmade bed. Harry had had a long day of moving boxes, and Louis had had a long day of supervising, and Louis didn’t want to do it while they were so exhausted, but Harry asked why she’d been acting weird.

“Since the last night in Magaluf, really,” she’d said. “Did something happen with Stan?”

Louis had nodded. “Yeah. ‘M try’na make a go of it, with ‘im. Try’na see if it’s anythin’.”

“Right,” Harry had said slowly. Thoughtfully.

“So,” Louis’d said, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “I think ‘m only gonna kiss ‘im til I figure it out.”

“Right,” Harry had said again. “Right, yeah. That makes sense.” There was a pause, in which Louis wanted to question exactly how Harry thought it made sense but couldn’t, and then Harry said, “Can we still cuddle though?”

“Of course!” Louis exploded, pulling at Harry until she curled into Louis’s side. “Always, of course.”

And that was it. Harry hasn’t been totally distant, at least not around the house every day - and she made everyone cupcakes on the one year anniversary from the day they met, and Louis’s had more buttercream roses than anyone else’s - but they’ve stopped sharing a bed completely, and when they go out, it’s suddenly like Louis doesn’t exist. Like, if Louis approaches her, Harry will chat to her, act as friendly as ever, but Louis feels oddly at arm’s length. And Harry doesn’t touch her first anymore.

Louis doesn’t know exactly what she expected. Obviously they’re not dancing together anymore, and that’s fine, that she expected, but she supposes she’d thought she’d still get Harry’s attention. This feels like she has to fight for it, like Harry would rather be talking to other people, and -

Louis _hates_ it, deeply gutturally hates it. She feels like she’d do anything to have Harry’s eyes on her, but at the same time, her pride is too wounded. It makes her feel like she should keep her distance as well, which means that their nights out consist of Louis hanging off of Liam and Zayn, or dancing with Niall and Perrie, or kissing Stan, while Harry dances with Jesy and Jade, or flirts with Ed and Mitch, or kisses random douchey-looking lads.

Sometimes, though, Louis catches Harry staring at her across the club. She has this laser-focused, serial killer stare, and Louis’s never seen it directed at anyone else. It's become an inside joke by this point, but now it makes her feel strangely comforted. It’s proof Harry still cares about her.

And then during the day, Harry’s her best friend all over again. Because Harry does still care about her. They just need to adjust, really, to nights out being different. It’s another new normal.

The good outweighs the bad, more or less, until one night when she’s lounging at home with a few beers and Harry, Perrie, and Jade. Louis gets up to go to the loo and comes back to a conversation about kinks.

It’s weird that she’s uncomfortable, because she and Harry have talked about their kinks at length. To the point where Louis was almost upset by it, because their interests align so perfectly. It’s unfair that she can imagine so clearly how well they’d work together.

So maybe that’s why she doesn’t like it when Harry starts talking about using kink apps and Tinder. She hates the idea of Harry being with anyone else.

It’s also a bit of a slap in the face, only because it’s been so long since she’s heard Harry talk about it. What with holidays, and final exams, she’s been too busy or too out of the country to care about dating. But now, now that they’re settling back into a routine, Harry’s ready to find herself a boyfriend. Louis should have expected it, the exact same thing happened at the start of last term.

It still really sucks.

Harry’s just as optimistic as she was back in February. “I’m more sure of what I want now,” Harry says. “Like, I know what I’m looking for.”

“What’s that, babe?” Perrie asks as she refills Harry’s wine glass.

Harry flushes like she always does when she talks about it. “Like, someone dominant.”

Jade and Perrie nod, because they know that. Louis looks at them and realises this little group right here is probably the kinkiest of them all. That’s probably why they’re talking about it, she thinks, and has to stifle a giggle.  _Duh_.

“But also nice,” Harry says. “And I wanna be able to talk to them.”

_Me! Me! That’s me!_  Louis’s traitorous brain screams. She takes a long sip of her beer to try and clear her thoughts. Harry’s criteria could apply to a lot of people, it’s not exactly specific to Louis.

“I mean, the amount of doms who are dickheads online is just ridiculous,” Jade’s saying.

“The amount of men who are dickheads online is ridiculous,” Perrie says.

“Or just in general,” Louis mutters, because she only knows about five blokes she doesn't hate, and Harry smiles at her.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Harry says. “I dunno what other choices I have though.”

“Oh! Let me add you to this Facebook group I’m in, it’s like a sub support group,” Jade says with a grin, tapping away on her phone. “There!”

“Better’n that, lemme add you to the general Newcastle kink group,” Perrie says. “It’s like tapping into the whole kink scene here. Like, the good ones. There’s strict rules about being a dickhead.”

Harry looks super interested as Perrie adds her to the group, and Louis feels awful that she isn’t happier for her. It’s just that the idea of some stranger in one of those groups becoming Harry’s dom makes her want to rip her eyeballs out, that’s all.

She manages a weak smile as she says, “‘M gonna go have a smoke.” Harry smiles back at her as she gets up and heads out onto their small balcony.

The balcony only comes off the lounge, so she can hear the girls clearly as they grill Harry about her kinks. It’s all stuff Louis already knows, but it’s still hurting her heart to hear Harry talk about being tied up and liking “a little bit” of pain. She focuses on the cherry of her cigarette and the streetlights glinting off puddles below. She wishes she’d brought her phone out with her.

“Ideally, what’s your partner into? Best case scenario?” Perrie’s asking, and even that rubs Louis the wrong way, because she knows Perrie leans dominant. Even though Perrie’s fucking straight, and isn’t even competition anyway because  _Harry’s fucking straight_. Jesus christ.

“Best case scenario,” Harry echoes quietly. Louis strains to hear her, despite herself. “I know it’s weird, but like, best case for me, I’d love to find a Daddy.”

Louis’s heart leaps with pride, because it’s another kink she was already aware of, but she knows Harry’s felt a lot of shame and embarrassment about sharing it. Until now, as far as she knew, Louis was the only one who knew about that one. She’s so proud of Harry for opening herself up like this.

“I’m not, like, I don’t have any daddy issues or anything,” Harry’s saying. “Like, with me own actual - _God, no_ \- ”

Louis knows this is Harry’s biggest fear, how horrified she is by the idea of anyone associating her kinks with her family. Since she can’t see Perrie and Jade’s reactions, she’s about two seconds away from stubbing out her cig and running to Harry’s defense, but Jade’s quickly saying, “Oh, babe, we know, it’s fine.”

Perrie giggles. “You should hear some of the things this one’s into.”

“Oi, you should talk,” says Jade.

“Oh, good,” Harry says, sounding relieved. “It’s just that Daddies - they’re, like, gentle doms? That’s what I want. To be taken care of.”

“Mm hm, yeah,” hums Jade.

They start talking about Jade and Perrie’s kinks, then, and Louis manages to tune them out. She focuses on her smoke and on her thoughts.

Because the dominant thing - that, she could do. She’s got that in the bag. And, like, she’d be Harry’s Daddy if that’s what Harry wanted. In a heartbeat. But she’s about 99% sure that Harry associates Daddies with men. That’s what she’s saying, actually, right now. That her ideal partner is a man. She’ll probably end up with a big, strong dude twice Louis’s size, with like, a beard and muscles. Unlike Louis, who’s smaller than Harry, and can’t exactly manhandle her the way this imaginary bloke can.

And Louis’s pissed, because manliness is a fucking social construct. It’s so stupid. She can't help thinking about how she doesn't conform to feminine beauty standards herself. Her fashion sense is closer to soft butch, and she’s pretty hairy; she can only be arsed shaving her legs once or twice a month, and she only trims her pubes. Obviously that doesn’t make her _manly_ though, and especially not what Harry considers manly. Basically, Harry’s ideal partner is Louis’s complete fucking opposite, and that really fucking hurts.

But when she finishes her cig and goes back inside, she crawls up beside Harry on the sofa until she’s wrapped around her. Harry just did something big and scary and she deserves to be cuddled.

“Hey Lou,” Harry mumbles. Jade and Perrie aren’t paying any attention, too busy discussing a lad they both hooked up with in secondary. “D’you hear all that?”

“Mmhm,” Louis hums, nudging her face into Harry’s neck. “‘M so proud of you, love. Opening up like that, it’s a big deal. And you know they haven’t judged you one bit, yeah?”

Harry takes a deep breath. “I thought not,” she says. “Hoped not. S’good to hear you say so.”

“We’re the best people to talk to about this sort of thing,” Louis says. “The four of us are the same, yeah? We get it. And you know I’m never gonna judge you. And I’ll punch anyone who does.”

Harry giggles. “Thanks, Lou.”

So, like. Her relationship with Harry is fine, but her heart’s just been broken all over again.

***

Leigh and Jesy complained about Harry being naked all the time, so now when she’s lounging around the house, probably to spite them, she wears lingerie. It’s always lacy or sheer, always pink or green. Louis knows those are Harry’s favourite colours.

It’s somehow worse than her being naked.

“I thought your argument for being a nudist was that it was freeing,” Louis says, eyeing Harry’s lacy bralette. It seems restrictive. “And I thought you hated bras. Surely a t-shirt and shorts is more comfortable than that?”

Harry smiles at her serenely. “This is freeing in a different way,” she says. Mysterious.

The next day she’s wearing pale pink thigh highs that clip onto her knickers. Louis finds her in the kitchen after uni, baking cupcakes like something out of a 1950s porno. There’s a moment before Harry sees her that Louis just watches, observes, as Harry hums to herself while she ices a cupcake. She looks so comfortable, so very Harry. Louis understands now, she thinks.

That doesn’t help her sexual frustration.

***

“Are you coming out with us tonight?” Louis asks after she exhales, handing Stan her bong. They’re sitting on her bed, watching Steven Universe, sharing her weed and a packet of crisps. The group’s supposed to be going out tonight, like they do every Friday night, but Louis would almost rather stay here. She’s comfy.

“Yeah,” Stan says. “If you’re going out, I’m going out.”

Louis smiles. That’s nice to hear. “Honestly, I’d rather stay in,” she says.

“We could do that,” Stan says agreeably. “Just get stoned and binge Steven Universe. I don’t care.”

Louis can’t help smiling again. Stan’s a homebody at heart, and sometimes she doesn’t appreciate that, because it means he’s a bit awkward at the clubs. But she likes it on days like this, when she’s so tired that she actually doesn’t feel like partying.

Then Harry opens the door. “Louuuu, are you getting ready soon?”

Harry clearly isn’t ready herself, since she’s wearing yet another frilly bra/knickers/stockings combo with her silk dressing gown. She seems surprised to see Stan, but she doesn’t hide from him the way Louis would.

“Uh, we were just thinking we might stay in,” Louis says.

Harry gapes at her. “Stay in?!” she echoes, like that’s preposterous. Then she pouts. “No, _please_ Lou, it’s not fun without you.”

Stan makes a tiny little ‘hm’ sound, maybe, or maybe he just breathed. Louis isn’t sure.

But she can’t resist Harry’s pouting. “Yeah, alright then,” she says. “I’ll get up after this episode.”

Harry beams happily, chirps “Okay!” and closes the door.

“So you’ll just do anything for her, yeah?” Stan says, but he doesn’t sound judgemental or annoyed. Tired, maybe.

“I mean,” Louis shrugs. “She’s me best mate.”

“Yeah,” says Stan.

After about five minutes, the episode ends, and Louis goes to find Harry. It’s bad luck for them to get ready separately.

*

Louis truly doesn’t know why Harry wanted her to come out, since she’s spent most of the night ignoring her. Every night out is like this now - Harry spends a tiny amount of time with Louis, maybe has a shot or two with her, but spends most of the night hanging off Nick or Mitch or Ed or Niall. It’s been like this ever since Magaluf.

She’s not even sure if Harry’s actually ignoring her on purpose. She might just feel weird - like, Louis asked for the dancing and the kissing to stop. Maybe Harry thinks this is what she meant. Maybe Harry doesn’t know what to do with her, if they’re not dancing and kissing.

But that doesn’t make sense. Harry’s her best mate. They should be able to have fun together.

Maybe it’s Stan.

“I’m telling you, she hates me,” Stan’s saying, as he watches Louis watch Harry dance on Niall.

“She doesn’t,” Louis argues weakly. “She just - doesn’t know how to act around you. She probably thinks you don’t like her.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “I wonder what gave her that impression.”

Louis finally tears her eyes away from Harry and Niall. “Do you? Not like her?”

Her heart’s beating hard, suddenly, because that’s a dealbreaker. Louis can’t be with someone who dislikes Harry for any reason. She simply can’t.

Stan shakes his head. “She seems lovely,” he says. “I can see what you see in her. I don’t dislike her, I just - I dunno. It’s hard to like someone who seems to wish you didn’t exist.”

Louis frowns. That’s a complicated answer, and she just can’t believe that Harry dislikes _anyone_ , let alone Louis’s - Louis’s Stan.

“C’mon,” she says, standing up and pulling him to his feet too. “We’re gonna force her to hang out with us, and you’ll see she likes you just fine.”

Harry seems surprised when they approach her and Niall, probably because Louis’s still dragging Stan along. It’s not very inconspicuous. She recovers quickly and asks if they’re having a good night.

“Well, sort of,” Louis says. “But we wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Oh,” Harry says, clearly pleased but confused. “You did?”

“Stan loves this music, he fancied a dance.”

Stan makes a face at her, but he can’t argue, as the club’s playing early naughties pop music and it's one of his favourite genres.

Harry’s smile looks off, but it’s wide and reaches her eyes. “Let’s go, then,” she says, and leads them deeper into the throng of people, closer to the music.

Louis’s very careful about her dancing. She doesn’t want to ignore Stan, but she doesn’t want to ignore Harry either. Luckily, the songs that are playing are the kind they want to scream along with - all the old classics, Sean Paul and Big Brovaz and S Club 7 and Eminem. There’s nothing sexy about the way they’re dancing, it’s closer to jumping than anything else. Eventually Harry seems to warm up to Stan, she’s singing to him as much as Louis, and Louis smugly satisfied.

And then Shakira comes on, Underneath Your Clothes, which is a fucking slow jam and a half. And Stan grabs for her, and Louis dances with him while Harry turns to Niall, but it just feels - wrong. Off.

Louis feels like her body is fucking crying out to dance with Harry. She remembers countless nights dancing with Harry to Shakira’s voice - Wherever, Whenever is a fucking _tune_ \- so much so that it’s almost like a sense memory. She hears Shakira, and she feels like she should be touching Harry.

Instead, she falls against Stan, her head on his shoulder. He holds her, and it’s not the way Harry would, but he’s solid. He’s here. Maybe that’s enough.

***

Harry’s been going on a lot of dates. She’s meeting at least one new bloke a week from these kink apps Jade showed her. Every time she talks about them, Louis feels a jealous rage clawing its way through her insides, threatening to spill out of her mouth, but she also has a desperate need to know the details. She needs to be prepared for when Harry actually gets a boyfriend - or, god forbid, falls in love.

The good news is that Harry hasn’t come close to having feelings for a single one. The bad news is that she’s apparently having a lot of no strings attached sex and it hurts Louis to think about it.

Harry’s on one of those dates tonight, and Louis’s moping in front of Bake Off with Niall. It’s an old episode, obviously, she’s not allowed to watch new ones without Harry. She’s torturing herself, honestly, because Bake Off is _their_ show. It just makes her miss Harry more.

“Seriously?” Liam says, coming into the lounge and throwing a cushion at Louis. It glances off her arm, and Louis reaches to grab it.

“Terrible throw,” she says.

“Shut up,” says Liam, leaning against the sofa. Niall tips her head back to smile at her and then goes back to watching Mary Berry. “I thought you had plans with Stan tonight.”

Louis shrugs. She did. And then she didn’t. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

“Right,” Liam says skeptically. “This seem like more fun, then?”

“Oi, Niall is charming company, thanks very much,” Louis says, and Niall spares her her own quick smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Liam says. “You’re moping.”

“Am not,” Louis argues. “I’m watching people make delicious food and then have their hopes and dreams crushed. I feel great.”

“You’re a muppet,” Liam says, turning towards her room.

“Delightful as always, Lima,” Louis says, and then, “Hey, Liam.”

Liam turns around just in time for the cushion to hit her in the face.

*

By the time Harry comes home, Niall’s abandoned Louis, so she’s sitting alone, a Location, Location, Location marathon on while she scrolls through her Instagram feed. Harry walks in looking exhausted and drops down on the sofa.

“Why are men so terrible?” Harry asks, then scootches over to cuddle up to Louis.

“I can’t answer that, love,” Louis says, locking her phone and pulling Harry half into her lap.

Harry sighs. “I’m beginning to think it’s impossible to find who I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Louis asks, running a soothing hand up and down Harry’s back. Harry curls into her touch, because she’s a fucking kitten.

“Well, someone nice,” Harry starts slowly.

Louis nods. “Simple. I like it.”

“Yeah, and you’d be surprised how fucking rare kindness is,” Harry says, rolling her eyes. “All these doms who can’t be polite to wait staff. Or who ask me really inappropriate questions. Like just because I’m kinky they think I’m up for anything on the first date. I don’t even know you!”

Harry rarely gets this animated, this angry. Whoever she’d seen tonight must have really bothered her. It upsets Louis for reasons beyond jealousy - Harry deserves to be treated like a fucking _queen_ , and Louis’s furious that she puts her precious heart out there only to be trampled on by these absolute fuckboys.

“Will it help if I personally murder every man who treats you less than perfectly?” Louis asks, and Harry laughs. Louis’s pleased; it always feels like such a win when she cheers Harry up.

“That would help, cheers,” Harry says.

“So…” Louis says, trying to get back on topic. She hates it, but she needs to know for sure what Harry’s looking for, romance wise. Maybe that might convince her brain it’s not her. “A dominant, kind man. What else?”

“Not just kind, I want them to be sweet,” Harry says. “Like, there’s a difference between being a dom and being a dickhead, y’know?”

Louis nods. She _does_ know. “That’s important. They need a heart of gold, to match yours.”

It seems like Harry melts at that, if Louis’s mind isn’t playing tricks on her. She pouts at Louis with cow eyes and says, “ _Lou_. You’re the sweetest.”

“No, that’s you darling,” Louis says. Harry's nose twitches, the way it seems to when she's trying to hold in a smile, and Louis drops a kiss onto her forehead. “So, tell me more. Nice, sweet. Big dick?”

Harry snorts. It’s undignified and Louis loves it. “I don’t care about _that_ ,” she says. “S’what sex toys are for, innit?” Louis doesn’t comment, too floored by the visuals that provides. “I guess, like, sense of humour.”

Louis laughs. “Standard. What is it in particular you don’t like about these soulless, humourless dickheads you keep going out with?”

Harry giggles, and then she sobers as she thinks about it. “I guess, really, it’s the way they treat me. Like a living sex doll. I just want someone to care about me.”

Louis’s heart breaks. She swallows. “You deserve that, sweetheart,” she says softly. “Don’t settle for less.”

“I just wanna find my soulmate,” Harry mumbles, her head down. “I thought, like, they’d obviously be a daddy dom, yeah? But I think I might hate every eligible man in the kink scene.”

Louis hates them too. And it’s not fucking fair. She wants to promise Harry that she could give her everything she’s looking for. She wants Harry to feel like she’s already found her soulmate, because she’s found Louis.

She wants to say,  _try girls, then_. But her mouth won’t make the words.

“They’ll come along, I promise,” Louis says. “Nobody deserves a happy ending more than you.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, resting her head on Louis’s shoulder. “Til then I have you.”

“Always, you have me,” Louis corrects, and then they watch Kirstie and Phil find houses for people until they fall asleep.

***

Louis inhales, watching the flame flicker around the cherry until it pops. The water bubbles, she keeps breathing in, and then she tilts her head up and exhales, watching the smoke blow out the window.

Her head spins, because they’ve started spinning instead of smoking green. She likes how the tobacco goes to her head, it’s kinda like shotting a cig.

“I just like the aesthetic of ‘em,” Zayn mumbles.

“You gotta admit they’re shit though,” Louis says, picking up her argument again. “They’re a fuckin’ waste of weed, you use so much more and half of it’s wasted. And the high’s not as good. And they’re worse for your health, aren’t they?”

“No, I don’t disagree with ya,” Zayn says. Louis knows she loves a spliff. She’s not really what Louis’s complaining about.

She's not even sure why she's bothering; rolling a spliff is basically British culture after all. At least in her experience. That just fires her up more, though.

“There’s summit classist about it too, I reckon,” Louis says. “Like, loads of people just think joints are classier than bongs. Or, like, cooler.”

Zayn sits up and blinks at her. “Bloody hell, babe,” she says. “You’re right. Am I gonna have to stop rolling spliffs now?”

Louis considers it. “Well, they’re conveniently portable, aren’t they,” Louis says. “Can’t really take a bong around with you. Not often, anyway.”

“That’s true,” Zayn agrees.

“They’re okay sometimes,” Louis concludes. “But bongs are better.”

“Agreed,” says Zayn.

“Great, now that that’s sorted, and I thank you both for giving the topic the gravity it so deserves,” says Niall, rolling her eyes. Louis had forgotten she was sitting there. “Where’re we all off to tonight?”

She and Zayn immediately start arguing over pubs versus clubs, and then Harry and Perrie come into the room. Zayn and Niall agree that Perrie can decide where they go, and she chooses a club, and then Harry pulls Louis to her feet and drags her off to get ready.

*

Harry’s hands are on her hips and her eyes are staring into Louis’s. Her pupils are big and black, undoubtedly from the mdma, Louis’s sure her own are blown as well. Harry’s hands slide up, she’s pulling Louis closer, until her arms are around Louis’s neck. Louis’s own hands clumsily find Harry’s love handles, gripping them like she needs something to hold on to, to ground her - not because all she ever wants is to be holding Harry’s love handles.

She doesn't know how she got here. She and Harry don't do this anymore, _haven't_ been doing this, but they're so fucking mortal that it must have seemed like a good idea. She can't remember why she shouldn't. It's just some harmless dancing. Harry's her favourite person to dance with, and Louis's _missed_ this.

The song changes, the bass climbing up Louis’s spine like a slithering snake, and Harry’s dancing changes too, rocking her body back and forth. Louis matches her, on auto pilot, because she’s drunk and she’s high and she’s intoxicated on this girl, on the smell of her perfume, the sweat glistening on her neck. She’ll do anything to touch Harry, to always be touching Harry.

She doesn’t know what’s okay. She never knows what’s okay. But right now, she’s not really bothered. When they’re drunk, when they’re high - it's the only time that  _everything_ feels okay _._

Harry’s hands slide around, from the back of her neck to cup her jaw. Her stare is intense, and it’s been at least a month, maybe two, but Louis knows where this is going. It’s the same every time. Louis inches closer, but she could probably fit her fist in the space between their mouths. She likes this game they play, in a way, likes the anticipation of it. But she’s tired of it too, tired of every kiss riddled with tension. She just wants to feel like Harry is _hers_ , for once.

Harry sways a bit closer, because it’s her turn, and then Louis decides to fuck up their routine. She moves, slowly but with determination, and presses a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. Harry’s eyes flutter closed and her mouth opens in a small, “oh!”

And then her mouth chases Louis’s. Louis presses another soft, chaste kiss to Harry’s mouth, and when Harry chases her again, Louis sucks Harry’s bottom lip into her mouth.

Harry moans and pulls her closer, her fingers threaded through Louis’s hair and her thigh in between Louis’s.

There’s a reason Louis can’t get enough of this. Nobody kisses like Harry. It’s sensual and intuitive, and she always does this weird flicking thing with her tongue that shouldn’t be a turn-on but totally is, especially with her piercing.  Her boobs are pressed against Louis’s, and her thigh is pressed against Louis, and she’s very almost riding Louis’s leg. Louis feels like she’s on fire. She almost hadn’t realised how close they were until there wasn’t a place they weren’t touching.

Part of her brain knows they’re in public. And that Harry is straight, and isn’t going to have sex with her. And - and that she’s not supposed to do this anymore, jesus fucking christ.

It’s like coming out of a fog. Louis pulls away. Harry looks confused, and thoroughly debauched. It takes every fucking ounce of self control Louis has, but she says, “I can’t. Stan.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow further, like she’s forgotten who he is. Louis tries not to find it adorable and fails. “Do you think he’d mind?”

Louis blinks. She feels like such an idiot. When is she going to get it in her thick head - Harry is _straight_. Harry doesn’t actually _want_ to have sex with her. Fuck.

“Um, yeah,” she says. She tries to disentangle herself, but Harry’s arms are loosely wrapped around her neck again.

“What if we dance like this?” Harry asks. If Louis didn’t know any better, she’d say she looked downright fucking coquettish. “Just dancing. No kissies.”

Louis takes a breath and manages to hold in her groan. How is Harry Styles the cutest person on the planet? It’s so incredibly unfuckingfair.

Her hands move back to Harry’s love handles, like magnets. “S’pose there’s nothing wrong with dancing,” Louis says.

Harry smiles beautifully. “Nothing at all.”

A couple songs later, and they’re snogging against the wall. Louis can’t bring herself to stop, too fucked to care, until Liam interrupts to tell her Stan has ran off. It’s like dousing her in cold water. Louis detaches from Harry, can only longingly look at her biting her plush bottom lip for a few seconds, and then she heads for the exit.

Louis can’t find Stan anywhere, and she ends up in the smoking area, lighting up to calm her nerves. After breathing in a few puffs, she does feel much calmer - she thinks sometimes that smoking forces her to practice deep breathing.

She’d really love to stop spending her time in smoking areas calming herself down, however. She longs for the nights she spent out here flirting with pretty girls.

The nights pre-Stan.

“Hey,” someone says quietly from behind her. “C’n I bum one?”

“Stan,” Louis says, whirling around. Look at that, she’s relieved he hasn’t left. “I thought you’d gone.”

He sighs, taking the cig she offers him. “I almost did,” he says, and then lets her light his smoke. He breathes out and says, “But I realised we have to talk.”

Louis really doesn’t think now’s the best time. She’s absolutely wasted, and yeah, being outside, smoking, it’s helped clear her head a bit, but still. She doesn’t want to do this now. She finds herself sorta wishing he had gone home after all.

“What are we doing, Louis?” Stan asks wearily.

“What?”

“C’mon. You don’t treat me the way you treat Harry.”

“Well,” she says, already floundering. “She’s me best mate.”

Stan shakes his head. “It’s not that. I see the way you look at her, you know. You’d always rather be with her.”

Louis frowns. “How do I look at her?”

Stan sighs. “I dunno, it’s like, all  _longing_. I’m pretty sure you’re in love with her, actually. I've been waiting for you to figure it out.”

Louis rubs her face with the hand not holding a cigarette. She’s probably getting mascara everywhere and she doesn’t care. “I tried so hard to stop it,” she mumbles into her hand. “I do like you, and besides, having feelings for Harry is absolutely pointless.”

Stan pries her hand away from her face and wipes away her makeup and tears. “I don’t think it’s pointless,” he says. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, too.”

Louis blinks at him. “Are you mad? She’s straight.”

Stan shrugs. “She hates me, y’know.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Louis insists. “You changed things, of course she resents you.”

“Okay,” Stan says, clearly giving up. “I really don’t want to try to convince you that Harry Styles is into you. I’d rather not talk about her ever again, to be honest.”

Louis can’t help making a face, because everything about that is absurd, but she understands where he’s coming from. He doesn’t even seem angry, or upset - just tired.

“I’m really sorry,” she says sadly.

“S’ok,” Stan says with a shrug. “We can still be friends, yeah? Besides, I figured this was inevitable when you couldn’t stop kissing her.”

God, Louis feels like absolute shit.

“Give us a hug, then,” Stan says, pulling her in for a goodbye cuddle.

Then he leaves, and Louis heads inside to find Harry.

It's her first thought, her only thought. She sees Harry across the club, dancing with Niall and Leigh, her arms above her head and her tits bouncing obscenely in her white halter top. Louis makes a beeline for her, and when Harry sees her, she immediately looks concerned.

"Lou? What's happened?" Harry asks, grabbing onto Louis's shoulders and steering her off to the side so they can hear each other. Although Harry's eyes are still blown, looking into them centres Louis, calms her a bit. She drowns out the rest of the club and only sees Harry.

"It's over, me an' Stan," Louis says, and she watches a flash of expressions dance across Harry's face. If Louis weren't so aware of her own wishful thinking, she'd think Harry looked relieved. Happy, almost.

"Shit," Harry says, and any relief Louis might have seen in her face is replaced with concern. "Are you alright?"

Louis nods. Then shrugs. "I don't know, really," she says. "I think so? I think we're better off as mates, really, but I just feel like shit. I wasn't fair to him."

Harry makes a sad, pouty face at her. "I'm sure you didn't mean to. Sometimes, we hurt people while we're figuring our own shit out. Everything's just an experience to learn from, yeah?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," Louis says. She still feels like a giant arsehole.

"C'mon," says Harry. "Let's get some shots! We need to drown your sorrows."

Louis agrees, and follows her to the bar. She can't help thinking that at least now she and Harry are free to be _themselves_ again.

*

Louis wakes up with the hangover of her life and a sinking feeling in her gut. Last night comes back to her in flashes - kissing Harry for the first time in forever, Stan breaking up with her, drowning her guilt rather than sorrow, and. How happy Harry had been. Harry had bought them shots. Louis’s memory is foggy after that, but she knows Harry had been happier than expected after her best mate got dumped.

It’s possible she just didn’t like Stan, they never really got on. But Louis can’t help wondering if she’s happy Louis’s single.

And Louis… doesn’t know how she feels. She mostly feels guilty, still. Like, even her first thoughts upon remembering the breakup were more about Harry than Stan. That’s fucking awful.

And she’d liked him, she’d wanted things to work out. It would’ve saved her so much drama if she could’ve just liked him more. But… that’s the problem, right there. Her reason for being with him was, essentially, to avoid drama. It’s a shitty reason to be with someone, and it makes her feel shitty too.

When she goes downstairs, Harry’s already awake, and she’s made eggs and bacon. She knows Louis needs greasy food when she’s hungover.

“You’re an angel,” Louis says, and Harry beams.

Harry’s clearly in a better mood than Louis is, despite her matching hangover. They sit in the upstairs lounge all day, marathoning Bob’s Burgers because Louis finds H. Jon Benjamin’s voice soothing. Louis can’t help feeling miserable, even with Harry’s cuddles. She just feels guilty, and like a terrible person.

Harry orders pizza for dinner, with extra cheese and extra bacon, none of her bullshit vegetable toppings. Louis can’t help feeling like she’s being pampered, because she is. She wallows in her feelings for the rest of the night and Harry indulges her, and it's almost overwhelming in a really lovely way.

*

The next day, she feels better in some ways and worse in others, but still overall like a shit person. She decides to take the day off.

Harry had to go to class, but she texts Louis all day, which feels like she’s checking in, which is nice. Louis would still rather have her at home, but it’s nice to know Harry’s thinking of her while she's in her classes.

Predictably, her mood doesn’t brighten until Harry finally comes home, but for more than one reason - she’s got a little wriggly puppy with her.

“Who’s this, then?” Louis asks, partly to Harry and partly to the puppy. They’re so tiny, a ball of curly black fur. Louis’s instantly in love.

“Well, you know how we’ve been saying we want to get a house dog?” Harry begins nervously. Louis’s hopes skyrocket. “Well, my friend’s dog had puppies, and you’re sad about Stan, I thought… I wanted to cheer you up.”

Louis’s heart is in her throat. “It’s for me?”

Harry smiles. “Yeah. For all of us, but yeah. You can name him and everything.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes. She loves this girl. Love doesn’t even begin to describe it. “Thank you.”

Harry scrunches her nose. “It was no problem,” she says cheerfully.

“C’mere,” Louis says, reaching out and pulling Harry down onto the sofa with her and the puppy.

Harry smiles at Louis and Louis has to, literally cannot stop herself. She leans in and presses a kiss to Harry’s mouth.

“Thank you,” she says, and Harry bites her lip and stares at her.

“You’re welcome,” Harry says, her voice attractively deep, and then the puppy paws at Louis’s face and makes them both laugh.

“How are we even able to keep him here?”

“I brought the landlady a batch of eclairs,” Harry says with a smile. “She loves eclairs. And I asked nicely. She said we wouldn’t get our deposit back if he damaged anything, but we could have him. Everyone was fine with that.”

Louis breathes in the puppy’s fur and tries not to cry. She’s just so overwhelmed. “I really appreciate this, darling.”

Harry beams. “I hope he helps,” she says softly.

Louis looks at the puppy wriggling in her lap, licking at her hand. “Pretty sure he will,” she says fondly. She decides to call him Clifford, after her favourite childhood fictional dog, and she feels better already.

***

Things are okay for a little bit. Clifford makes her happier than she even expected, and she feels like the girls have rallied together, the group stronger than ever, and she’s pretty sure she’s never felt closer to Harry. It’s like any awkward weirdness from the last few months has melted away, like they’re right back to where they were before Stan, but even better, somehow. Harry’s even stopped going on her bloody awful Tinder dates.

But Louis also feels certain that nothing’s going to happen between them. If Harry isn’t straight, if she does share any of Louis’s feelings, surely she’d have taken the opportunity to do something, once Stan was out of the picture? But she didn’t. Because that’s not the reason she was so uncomfortable with Stan.

Harry likes having Louis’s undivided attention. It’s as simple as that, and just because Louis feels the same way, and it’s not platonic for her, doesn’t mean it’s the same for Harry. Harry likes having Louis’s attention in a platonic way. That’s that.

The stupidest thing about it is that Harry always has, has always had, Louis’s attention. Louis is always so fucking _aware_ of her. Even when she tries to ignore her, she’s so conscious of Harry.

Honestly, it really sucks that Louis’s single, she’s realised she’s bi, she’s out, and yet she only has eyes for one girl. One unavailable, straight girl. She’s pretty fucking annoyed about it.

She feels like she’s wasting her new found queerness.

They go out, and Louis tries so hard. She pretends to ignore Harry, dances with other girls, tashes on with one. It’s not enough, and then Louis notices Harry flirting with some bloke across the club and drinks herself into a stupor. Harry ends up taking care of her instead of pulling, and Louis’s sickly satisfied.

Being single sucks more than being with Stan did. At least then she could distract herself with him, and she had him to go home with at the end of the night, so she wasn’t nonstop wondering what Harry was going to do. And now she can’t even bring herself to pull anyone else. She just doesn’t _want_ anyone as much as she wants Harry.

It’s so frustrating that she finally has a beautiful group of friends, a supportive second family, and she’s still not happy, because she’s fucking in love with one of them.

***

After a few weeks, she and Harry have picked up their drunken club snogging habit again. There’s no reason not to, except to protect Louis’s poor heart, and when she’s drunk, she’s bad at doing that.  Tonight they’d all gone out, and now they're home, all the girls back in their own rooms, but Harry ended up in Louis’s. That isn’t unusual. What is unusual is that they’re snogging half-clothed in Louis’s bed.

“Lou, Lou,” Harry gasps. “Um - I - ”

“What is it, sunshine?” Louis asks, running her hand up Harry’s side. She’s only in her lacy bralette and matching knickers, and her skin is so warm. And Louis knows this is weird, what they’re doing, maybe crossing a line, but it feels so natural. She’s been kissing Harry all night and she didn’t want to stop just because they came home.

“D’you think - could you - d’you want - ”

Harry’s clearly struggling for words, and Louis laughs, taking pity on her. “Just say it, babe, you can ask me anything.”

Harry smiles at her, and she’s drunk but she’s beautiful. Louis would give her the world.

“D’you wanna fuck me?” Harry asks plainly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes a bit glassy.

And… no. Louis can’t give her that. Not when she’s this drunk. Not when Louis isn’t who she really wants.

“Lou?” Harry asks, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I just - it’s been a while, y’know, because men are the worst, and…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to. Louis gets it. Harry’s a very sexual person, and she’s hard up, and anyone will do.

“I can’t,” Louis manages to say. Harry’s face falls. “It’s, um - you’re drunk. We’re drunk. It’s not…”

“We’re always drunk,” Harry points out, and that actually makes Louis feel worse.

“Yeah,” she says. She sighs. “Look, I’m really tired. I think I’m gonna go to sleep. You can stay if you like.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Okay. Yeah.”

They settle in, a strange few inches of space between them, and Louis closes her eyes and tries to relax. She’s not really tired, obviously, but she needs to calm herself down. She so badly wants to say fuck it and give Harry the orgasm of her life, but it stings knowing that Harry doesn’t really want her. She can’t risk her heart like that.

She also knows that if she ever actually got to eat Harry out, she’d never want to stop. And Harry doesn’t _want_ that.

Louis’s startled out of her thoughts by fingertips against her back. Harry’s drawing lazy shapes there, maybe letters, Louis can’t tell. It’s giving her goosebumps.

“I know you’re awake Lou,” Harry says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, you know.”

Louis’s heart hurts, because that’s the whole fucking problem, isn’t it.

Harry’s fingers trail down her back and rest on the waistband of her knickers. “Lou,” she whispers, and Louis shivers, and then she feels Harry press a kiss between her shoulderblades.

She’s fucking _throbbing_ , and her head is spinning, and Harry keeps kissing over her back, over her shoulders, and then Louis snaps out of it. She wrenches away and turns to face Harry.

“We can’t,” she says sternly. “This isn’t what you want.”

In the dim light, she can see Harry’s face - her flushed cheeks, her wide eyes. She’s biting her lip, and she looks _turned on_ , and Louis can’t do this. She isn’t strong enough.

“Right, if you’re gonna stay in here, you need to go and sleep at the end of the bed. Top and tail, like we’re _children_ , since you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Harry stares at her. Louis thought she’d seen every expression possible on Harry’s face, but she hasn’t seen this one before. She can’t quite place it, but then Harry nods quickly. “Yes, Lou,” she says, and then she grabs her pillow and scurries to the bottom of the bed.

Submissive. That’s what it is. It’s - fuck. Louis squeezes her eyes shut and turns away. Her every resolve is being tested.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she says, hoping that will be the end of it.

A few seconds, or hours, or minutes, later - Louis doesn’t know, she was too busy trying to breathe and ignoring the burning spot beside her - Harry says, “This is almost a sixty-nine, innit? S’quite sexy.”

Louis lets out an explosive sigh. “No, it isn’t,” she says. “Your head is next to me smelly feet.”

“I don’t mind your feet,” Harry says.

“Go to sleep, Harry.”

“But I _can’t_ ,” Harry whines. “If I look down, I can see your bum. It’s very distracting.”

If Louis were a better, smarter person, she’d wrap the duvet around herself so that Harry absolutely couldn’t see her bum. Or she’d get up and find another bed to sleep in. But Louis’s an idiot, and the girl she’s in love with is trying to fuck her. She only has so much self-preservation.

She turns around. “There. Can’t see it now.”

“No,” Harry agrees. Louis feels her fingers touching her calves. “But this view is distracting too.”

“Maybe you should close your eyes,” Louis suggests.

“Maybe you should just fuck me and put me outta me misery,” Harry suggests, and Louis can’t see her face, but she can picture her cheeky expression perfectly.

Not to mention - Harry telling Louis to fuck her has literally burned her from the inside out.

“You’re playing dirty,” Louis mutters.

“Mm, I am dirty,” Harry agrees, her fingers stroking around Louis’s knees, and it should sound ridiculous, but in Harry’s gravelly voice it just sounds hot.

Louis huffs.

Harry seems to pause; her fingers still. “Hey, Lou,” she says softly. “I don’t want to, like - pressure you. If you really don’t want to, I’ll stop.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. _Can’t_ say anything. 

“I just feel like you want this as much as I do.”

Louis squeezes her eyes shut again. She wants this more than anything. “ _Harry_.”

“Tell me to stop,” Harry whispers.

Louis takes a deep breath. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Harry’s fingers tip toe up onto her thigh. It burns, like she’s being touched with tiny pokers. “You know what topping and tailing is perfect for?”

“What’s that, then?” Louis asks weakly. She knows she’s giving in. As if she could really resist. She didn’t even want to. She’s just scared; this feels like offering Harry her heart.

“Fingering,” Harry says bluntly, and it makes Louis laugh, loud and unexpected.

“Go on then,” Louis says. She’s breathless and can’t seem to move - she simply can’t believe this is happening. _How the fuck is this happening?_

Harry's fingers creep further up, until she's pushing aside Louis's knickers. Louis finally reaches out herself and finds that Harry's actually absolutely right, this is the perfect position. She hooks her fingers in Harry's knickers and pulls at them.

"Wanna take these off?"

Harry's lifting up before she's even finished speaking, helping her pull them off. Harry wastes no time getting her fingers back inside Louis's pants, and she goes right for Louis's clit. Louis jolts, and shifts around until she can find a good angle. Harry's pubes are short, clearly shaved within the week, and it should be weird, to be touching this part of Harry, but it isn't. Louis just wants to pull Harry up and have her sit on her face, but this'll do.

Then one of her fingers slips inside Harry, and Louis almost comes on the spot. She's so wet and warm and Louis's mind is blown, she can't believe she's actually bloody  _inside Harry_.

Louis's rocking into Harry's fingers by the time she gets two fingers inside Harry and a thumb against her clit. She only exists in the places she and Harry are touching, and she can't think about anything else.

Seems Harry doesn't have that problem.

“Remember - remember," Harry gasps. "Earlier tonight, with my tit. That was so fucking hot.”

Fuck. It _was_. They were in a booth, tashing on, Harry was in Louis’s lap, and when Louis looked down, she’d seen that Harry’s boob had escaped her dress. She’d been so mortal that she’d kissed down Harry’s chest and sucked her nipple into her mouth for a few seconds, until she’d realised where she was.

And why she shouldn’t do that with Harry.

Which seems ridiculous now.  


“You liked that?” she asks, twisting her fingers. “Even in public?”  


Harry pushes down onto her and groans. “Yesss,” she moans. “God, I’d love for you to fuck me in public. So hot, Lou.”  


It’s that thought, with the pressure on her clit, that pushes her over the edge. Harry follows soon after, her muscles pulsing around Louis's fingers, and then she crawls back up the bed to cuddle.

"Love you," Harry says sleepily, and Louis presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead and desperately hopes she didn't just ruin everything.

***

“Run it by me again, I’m not sure I understand,” Zayn says after she takes a drag. “So Harry kisses you nonstop, can’t seem to keep her hands off you, and now you’ve gone to third base and you still think she’s straight?”

Her voice says Louis’s an idiot.

“Is that what third base is?” Louis asks, deflects. “I never really got that.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Zayn says. “Straight girls don’t finger their best friends. They just don’t.”

Louis purses her lips. She wriggles a bit at the memory, and then says, “It’s Harry, though. She’s not really normal.”

Zayn tsks. “And what happened in the morning?” 

“She woke me up with breakfast,” Louis says. “And she acted like always. Like nothing happened.” 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” says Zayn.

“Hey,” Louis says, something occurring to her. “Didn’t you hook up with Liam that one time?”

“More than once,” Zayn mumbles. “But I’m not straight.”

Louis sits up. “Zayn,” she says. “Are you coming out to me?”

Zayn shrugs. She looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t wanna make a big thing of it.”

“But it is a big thing!” Louis says. “D’you know how long I’ve been waiting for one of you to be openly queer with me?”

Zayn shuffles. “I mean, I dunno what I am,” she says. “I haven’t decided if I’m actually bi.”

“That’s okay,” Louis says softly, trying to calm down. She tries to sound as supportive as possible. “You don’t have to know, you know.”

“Mm,” Zayn mumbles. “I mean, queer’s probably the most fitting word, I s’pose.”

Louis smiles and reaches out for a high five. When Zayn gives her one, Louis pulls her in for a cuddle. “‘M proud of you, babes. Thanks for telling me.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” Zayn says. “Like, when you came out. I’m just, still figuring it all out.”

“No worries at all,” Louis reassures her.

“Anyway, you’ve changed the subject,” Zayn points out.

“I mean,” Louis says, struggling to remember what her point was. “Oh! Well, I’m still right - Liam’s straight, isn’t she?”

Zayn shrugs again. “Well, personally… I don’t think so,” she says. “Like I said… straight girls don’t finger their friends.”

Louis laughs. “Alright, alright, stop oversharing.”

“You overshared first!” Zayn argues. “I’m just saying… Don’t dismiss the possibility, you know? Maybe you’re making yourself miserable for no reason.”

Louis sighs. “It just seems pointless to hope,” she admits. “I don’t think it’s any secret by now that if Harry actually wanted me, she could have me. You can’t blame me for coming to the conclusion that she doesn’t.”

Zayn sighs as well. “She has had you, though,” she says. “You don’t think that means anything?”

Louis frowns. Well. Maybe Zayn has a point.

She still can’t help feeling like having hope is utterly foolish.

***

She decides to make one last attempt at getting over Harry. It’s not something she planned, exactly, she’s just in the smoking area when she sees a pretty girl wearing a purple sash. She’s sure this girl is with a hen’s party - she’s smoking with two other girls also wearing sashes - and her dress is covered in rainbow sequins, and there’s glitter all over her face. She’s gorgeous.

Louis’s immediately lost interest in whatever Liam and Zayn are talking about. She turns to the three hen’s party girls. “Let me guess, you lot are here for a baby shower?”

Rainbow Sequins giggles. “No, my friend is getting married,” she gestures inside, pointing out a pretty brunette wearing a veil, surrounded by girls in purple sashes. Also, more importantly, she has an American accent.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” Louis asks with a wink, and Rainbow Sequins laughs.

“No,” she says. “New York, actually.”

“What?!” Louis asks. Now, she’s never been to New York herself, but given the choice between there and dirty old Newcastle, she knows what she’d pick. “What the fuck are ya doing out here then?”

Rainbow Sequins laughs again. “Well, like you might remember, my friend is getting married.”

Louis laughs too. “Fair.”

She keeps up conversation with Rainbow Sequins - she’s surprised by how many questions she has to ask, about how long she’s known her friend, if she’s in the bridal party, why anyone in their right mind would choose Newcastle as a hen’s destination. They talk until Rainbow Sequins’ friends have gone back inside, and only then it occurs to Louis to ask her name.

“Bebe,” she says with a smile.

“I’m Louis,” Louis says, and then Zayn and Liam decide to go back inside.

“I should get back to my friends,” Bebe says. “But find me later?”

“Obviously, I’ve gotta buy you a drink,” Louis says, and Bebe laughs, and then they part ways. Louis has no clue what that girl’s sexuality is, even taking the rainbow sequins into account, but she’s pretty sure she was being flirted with, and that was really nice.

She follows Liam and Zayn back to their table, where they find Harry, Niall, Perrie and Jade. Harry happily says that she met a bride, and then Liam informs them all that Louis’s been flirting with a bridesmaid. Harry looks at her with wide eyes, and Louis feels guilty, and she’s not even sure why. Harry’s just frowning, which is adorable as always, but also upsetting. Louis doesn’t want to upset Harry.

She just doesn’t understand why Harry’s upset. And thinking about it makes Louis feel drunk.

Shit, she _is_ drunk.

The point of tonight, though, is decidedly _not_ worrying about Harry. Not wondering. Moving on. So Louis goes and dances with Leigh and Jesy for a bit, and then she goes to the loos, and then she heads to the bar. She has to wait in line for ages, but eventually she buys two vodka raspberries. She doesn’t know what Bebe drinks, but Louis doesn’t know anyone who doesn’t like vodka raspberries.

It takes her a second, because Bebe isn’t with the gaggle of purple sashes at their reserved table, but then she spots the bride’s veil in the crowd and sees Bebe dancing with her and some other girls. By the time Louis makes it over to them, the song’s changed from an old Usher tune to something Louis doesn’t know. Bebe doesn’t seem to either, as she’s stopped dancing when Louis reaches her.

Louis taps one of the glasses against her arm, and Bebe turns around. “Oh!” she says with a big grin. That’s a good sign. “Louis!”

“Hiya,” Louis says. “Fancy a drink?”

Bebe’s grin widens. “Yeah, thanks,” she says, taking one. “I’m thirsty as fuck.”

Her lips wrap around the straw and Louis wonders if maybe that was a euphemism.

They dance a bit awkwardly to the song neither of them know, sipping on their drinks, and then No Scrubs starts. Louis loves this song, and Bebe seems to know every word, so they’re dancing and yelling the words at each other. Bebe dances with her for the next few songs as well, old school Nelly and J-Lo and Rihanna. Lady Gaga comes on and by then Louis’s pretty sure this girl isn’t straight, mostly because her attention has been focused on Louis and her dancing is too sensual to be a joke.

Louis hates that she isn’t more into it. It’s been ages since she’s even kissed someone who wasn’t Harry, and she wants to, wants something uncomplicated. It’s just hard when Harry is across the club, when Louis can _feel_ her murderous frog stare on the back of her neck. She just doesn’t know what to _do_ \- her brain is telling her to pull Bebe, but her heart wants to go and hang out with Harry. Even platonically, she’d rather be with Harry than anyone else.

Her heart’s an idiot, though.

In the end it doesn’t matter - the decision is made for her when some random bloke grinds up behind her. Bebe pulls her away from him, shooting him a dirty glare, and then she giggles, presumably at the affronted look on Louis’s face.

“Ugh, men,” Louis manages.

“The worst,” Bebe agrees. “Maybe you should kiss me, maybe then they’ll stay away.”

Louis giggles. “Do you think so?” It’s not the worst crack on she’s ever heard.

Bebe nods, and she opens her mouth, but before she can say anything else, they’re interrupted. Hands are on Louis’s shoulders, long curly hair tickling her arm, Harry’s flowery scent in her nose.

“Are you alright, Lou?” Harry asks. Louis turns her head to look at her, but because Harry’s leaning over Louis’s shoulder, that makes her close enough to kiss. Louis looks between Harry’s mouth and Bebe’s. She doesn’t even know what the smart decision is anymore.

“Hm?” is all she manages.

“That bloke,” Harry says. “I couldn’t see what happened. Wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Oh,” Louis says. She feels touched, actually. “Just some dickhead, doesn’t matter. Bebe got me away from him.”

Harry looks at Bebe, then, and Louis does too. Bebe looks a bit confused, but she waves at Harry.

“Hi,” Harry yells over the music. “I’m Harry.”

Louis doesn’t know what to expect, really. She can’t remember Harry ever really approaching her while she was with someone else before. She definitely doesn’t expect Harry to dance with the two of them for the next seven million songs, until the rest of the girls find them, and even then Harry doesn’t separate from Bebe. It’s like Bebe is her new best friend, which is incredibly weird.

They’re dancing in a circle with the girls and some of Bebe’s friends, but Bebe and Harry are opposite Louis, too far for her to interact with either of them, and it feels too weird to try to approach Bebe again while Harry’s hanging off her.

Louis’s confused by what she’s playing at. And she’s confused by her feelings - she doesn’t know if she’s jealous of Bebe or of Harry.

But that’s a lie. Yeah, Bebe is attractive and Louis would love to take her home, but it really can’t compare to how she feels about Harry. What she wants from Harry.

So she gives up, and leaves the two of them alone. Harry’s attached to Bebe for the rest of the night, and Bebe adds them both on Facebook, but she doesn’t go home with either of them. And Louis… Louis thinks that’s a win. Fuck.

Maybe she can’t get over Harry. Maybe it’s impossible.

***

A lot of people just don’t understand Harry. She’s smarter than anyone gives her credit for; Louis knows she plays dumb often, but she’s intellectual in a off-beat way. Louis catches her reading classic literature all the time; she has a thing for Emily Dickinson, Virginia Wolf, Sylvia Plath and Oscar Wilde. She’s secretly pretentious as fuck.

She’s lovely and weird in ways other people don’t get, but Louis loves it. She has this sensual airiness about her that’s intoxicating, and a sweetness that Louis will fight to protect.

Loui's always thought so, but it comes to a head a week after the Bebe incident. They’re out, she and Harry are waiting at the bar, and they overhear some douchebag loudly talking about Harry to his friends. He’s just a few people away, close enough to hear, close enough to be _extremely rude_ , and he calls Harry a slag. One of his even douchier looking friends laughs and says, loudly, “What do you expect? Everyone knows she likes to be passed around.”

It’s like a gut punch for Louis; she can’t imagine how Harry feels. Louis looks to her, and Harry’s looking back at her, her eyes round and sad and shocked. And Louis feels as if her entire body is engulfed by her rage.

She marches right up to Arseholes #1 and #2 and their myriad of shitlord friends. “S’cuse me,” she says, and Arsehole #1 turns around. He looks even smarmier up close.

“Can I help you?” he asks, looking her over with obvious judgement. Louis wants to ask what it is, if she’s too butch for him, but this isn’t about her.

“Yeah, you and your dickweasel mate can shut your ignorant shit-eating mouths,” Louis says. “And stop spewing horseshit about someone you  _know_ you could only ever dream to deserve.”

Arseholes #1 and #2 laugh, even though their friends look uncomfortable. “What are you gonna do about it, pint size?” Arsehole #2 asks, and Louis laughs. That’s when Liam joins them.

“Hiya fellas, what’s going on here?” she asks, her patented peacemaker tone in place. Louis looks over and sees Zayn and Niall huddled with Harry, their heads bowed together like they’re comforting her. Good.

“This your mate?” Arsehole #1 asks.

“Shrimpy here thought she’d have a go at us,” Arsehole #2 says.

“Did she?” Liam asks mildly. “Why’s that, Louis?”

“This dickhead kept calling Harry a slag, and then _that_ dickhead said she likes to be passed around,” Louis explains. The arseholes have the nerve to look pleased with themselves. “And they knew Harry could hear them.”

“Did they,” Liam says. The arseholes are still laughing, and they don’t notice Liam size them up and then nod to Louis.

Louis rears back and punches Arsehole #2 in the face, as hard as she can, while Liam hits the other one. Liam boxes basically every day, so she definitely packs a punch, but Louis’s just as good when she’s this filled with rage.

The arseholes start screaming about broken noses, but she and Liam are already running away. 

“Treat people with a bit more respect, you shit-eating maggots!” Louis yells behind her.

They leave the club, then, not wanting another run-in with those wankers, and Louis holds Harry’s hand as they walk to their bus stop.

“Are you okay, darling?” Louis asks softly. The other girls have walked ahead, as if to give them a bit of privacy. Bless them.

“That’s why people don’t like me, then,” Harry says, sounding defeated. “Everyone thinks I’m a slag.”

“Who doesn’t like you?” Louis demands. The idea is preposterous. “Tell me, I’ll punch them too.”

Harry actually smiles. “You can’t punch everyone who dislikes me, Lou,” she says. “Violence isn’t the answer.”

“It was tonight,” Louis says stubbornly. “Nobody - _nobody_ \- talks about you like that without getting punched. I won’t allow it.”

Harry gives her another sad smile. “Thanks,” she says. 

“And I don’t care if you’ve slept with six hundred people,” Louis says. (Even if it’s a bit of a lie. The jealous cow part of her cares. Louis ignores that part.) “All at the same time, even. Talking about you like that is out of order.”

Harry smiles at her again, but she also looks like she’s about to cry. Louis stops talking and just holds her hand all the way home.

*

“I just - I feel like you’re the only person who gets me,” Harry sniffles, when they’re finally home and the two of them are curled up on the sofa with Clifford. One of Harry’s hands is tangled in Clifford’s fur and the other is still holding Louis’s. “Like, other people only see certain parts of me. You see all of me.”

Louis blinks. “Yeah,” she says. “I mean, I think I do too, but - it’s pretty amazing you feel that way, Haz.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s pretty amazing of you,” she says. “You make me feel seen.”

There’s a lump in Louis’s throat. She swallows. “Don’t make me cry, Hazza, come on.”

Harry smiles at her, soft and beautiful. “Even more than that - even the people who don’t think I’m a slag, or don’t care,” she says. “They think I’m weird or confusing. And they, like, put up with that because they like other parts of me? You’re the only person who appreciates my weirdness. I’ve always felt like you liked me because of it, not despite it.”

Louis breathes. She’s right - it’s not something Louis’s ever considered, but she’s _right_. Louis fucking  _loves_ how unique and different Harry is. All of her weirdness is so endearing. “You’re quirky,” Louis says. “You’re interesting. It’s _special_.”

Harry beams. “Thank you,” she says, clearly pleased. “I’m - I’m really happy you think so.”

“Well, you’re right,” Louis says. “Just so you know, I love everything about you.”

Harry’s fingers tighten around Louis’s. “I love everything about _you_.”

“So we agree,” Louis says. “We’re both wonderful.”

That gets a surprised laugh out of Harry, one of Louis’s favourite kinds.

“And, speaking with the great authority of the only person who properly sees you,” Louis says, making sure to lock eyes with Harry. She has to hear this. “You’re _phenomenal_ , and you’re genuinely better than everyone else, and nobody has the right to make you feel shitty about yourself. Okay? I want you to know - what those arseholes tonight said, what anyone says - it doesn’t _matter_. They don’t _know_ you. And they can eat shit as far as I’m concerned.”

Harry breathes shakily, like she’s trying not to cry, and then she smiles at Louis with watery eyes. “Thank you,” she says. “I mean - it’s hard to ignore it. But I appreciate you saying so.”

Louis pulls her closer, dislodging Clifford a bit. He grumbles and wriggles until he’s comfy again, and Louis says, “I’ll tell you every day if it helps. I’ve not met a single person better than you.”

Harry smiles again, and it’s happier this time. “Likewise,” she says, her dimples deep when she smiles, and Louis feels so light she could fly away.

***

Halloween’s coming up, and Niall suggests throwing a party. It’s a perfect idea; it's actually possible now that they’ve got this big beautiful house and they’re not in the bloody halls. Their landlady doesn’t even care if they throw parties. Louis doesn’t know why it’s taken them this long, why they haven’t been doing it every weekend. As much as she loves clubbing, she loves house parties even more.

She hasn’t thought much about costumes before Harry and Niall sit her down to talk about it. She, Zayn, and Liam usually go as different superheroes, so she figured they’d do that again. She was leaning towards Supergirl herself - and Zayn makes a perfect Wonder Woman, and Liam loves Batgirl. Sorted.

Now that she’s thinking about it, though, she can’t help wanting to include Harry. Last year, they hadn’t been quite close enough to consider matching costumes, and Harry went as the sexiest version of Miley Cyrus Louis’s ever seen. Now it feels absurd to not include her, but when Louis tries to think of which DC superhero she could be, all she can think of is Poison Ivy. Who isn’t a superhero, but fits Harry so well.

Maybe they could do villains - Niall would make a good Harley, except Louis would rather throw herself off the roof than suggest Niall ‘flirts with Harry for fun’ Horan dress up as Harry’s girlfriend. By the time Liam and Zayn meet them in Niall’s room, Louis’s talked herself out of her superheroes/villians idea.

“So Jesy, Jade, Leigh and Perrie are doing a group costume,” Niall announces. “They wanna be the four elements, since they basically have corresponding hair colours.”

Louis thinks about it and snorts. Jesy’s hair is a bright red at the minute, while Jade’s is blue, Leigh’s is white, and Perrie’s is green. That does work rather well.

Harry’s pouting though. “I kinda wish we could all do one big group costume,” she says. “I think that’d be cute.”

It would, Louis thinks. About half as cute as Harry pouting. She pulls Harry in for a cuddle. “Maybe next year, babes.”

“So I was thinking, the five of us should do a group costume,” Niall says. “Do you lot have any ideas?”

Louis carefully does not mention the superheroes idea, but Liam does. Niall calls it boring, and then Harry suggests the Spice Girls, and they all light up.

“I wanna be Sporty,” Liam says.

“If we’re going off personality, Harry’s Baby and Zayn’s Posh,” Louis points out. Harry beams at her.

“'M not posh,” Zayn mumbles. Liam rubs her shoulder comfortingly, but everyone else ignores her.   


“Which would make you Scary and me Ginger,” Niall says to Louis, her nose wrinkling. “Or the other way around. Does that even work?”

“It feels vaguely racist,” Louis says, thinking about it. “Though I’m not sure why.”

“Aside from us being white as hell,” Niall says.

Zayn snorts. “I’ll be Scary,” she says. “She’s more fun than Posh anyway.”

“Louis should be Posh, you’ve just cut your hair and everything,” Harry says.

Louis flicks her hair a bit; it barely brushes her shoulders now. It’s weird, being so short, but she kinda loves it. “But apparently Posh isn’t _fun_ ,” Louis says.

Harry nudges her. “You’d make it fun.”

“Oi,” says Zayn, throwing Niall’s stuffed rabbit at Harry. Louis grabs it before Harry can throw it back, cradling it in her lap.

“You leave Trevor out of this,” she says. She’d bought Trevor for Niall last Easter, because Niall wouldn’t stop ranting about how useless rabbits are. “He deserves respect.”

“He deserves to be thrown out the window,” Niall says.

“Anyway,” Liam interrupts. “If we’re going off hair, then Niall should be Baby. She’s already blonde.”

“Oh,” Harry says. She touches her hair as her eyebrows furrow. It’s beautiful and curly and perfect, but it’s definitely brown. “Right. I - I guess, yeah.”

“I mean, we could get wigs,” Niall says. “I don’t mind being - who’s left? Ginger?”

“Wait, I don’t know,” Liam says. She, Niall, and Harry all look confused. “Who’ve we decided on?”

“You’re Sporty, I’m Posh, Zayn’s Scary,” Louis says. “Keep up, Liam.”

Liam pushes her off the bed.

By the time she gets back up, she catches the end of Harry mumbling about it being easier for Niall to be Baby.

“I mean, I like Geri,” Harry adds. “She was the most feminist one, wasn’t she?”

“Mhm,” Louis agrees. She’s older than all of them, she probably remembers the Spice Girls in their heyday better than they do. That’s a weird thought. “She was also the flirtiest.”

Harry nudges her hard, but not enough to knock her off the bed again. She's much nicer than Liam.

“So that’s sorted then?” Liam says. “Harry, you’ll be Ginger?”

Harry nods.

“We should watch the movie before Halloween,” Louis says. “Get in character.”

*

They don’t end up able to find a night before Halloween where all of them are free, so Louis and Harry watch Spice World alone. Louis loved the film as a kid, and she thinks it still holds up now.

“Geri’s a full on weirdo,” Harry says happily, after the scene in the bus where Geri spouts off facts about manta rays. “I love her.”

“She’s so much like you,” Louis says, completely endeared.

“I’m happy being her now,” Harry says decisively. “I mean, I honestly didn’t mind, but now that we’ve seen this - I love her.”

“She was me fave as a kid,” Louis admits. “Broke me heart when she left the group.”

Harry gives her a sad look and pats her leg comfortingly, and then changes the subject. “You know Scary does kinda remind me of you. The way she teases Geri. That’s you.”

Louis grins. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like that scene just before on the bus, where Ginger and Scary were playing chess? That’s literally us.”

Louis cracks up, because she’s right. Geri was needlessly competitive while Mel B made up her own rules.

“I think, like, if we were actually recasting this movie, I’d rather see you as Scary and Zayn as Posh. I think it’d suit you better and Zayn would be hilarious.”

The girls on screen are currently dressing up as each other during a photoshoot. Louis loves it, almost wishes they could just spend Halloween swapping costumes with each other.

“I’d like to see you as Posh as well, you know,” Louis says. “That’d suit you too. Don’t you two have the same heart-printed shirt?”

Harry bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, yeah, we do.”

Last term, Louis had seen a picture of Victoria Beckham in a heart-printed shirt that looked exactly the same as one Harry owns. She’d stuck the picture on a piece of paper next to a photo of Harry in her shirt, and wrote ‘Who Wore It Better?’ across the top, circled Harry, and stuck it to the fridge in their shared kitchen.

She needs to find that paper, actually - it’s a crime it isn’t on their new fridge.

“I dunno, though,” Harry says. “I think I’m mostly a mix between Baby and Ginger.”

Louis nods. “Mm, you definitely are. That bit just before about Baby getting away with murder? That’s you.” She squeezes Harry’s cheeks. “Look at this face.”

Harry tries to wiggle away, but her nose is all scrunched up, which Louis knows means she’s enjoying herself.

Then Niall interrupts, messaging their group chat (titled  **sPiCe GiRlS**  - Louis keeps trying to change it but Niall just changes it back) with  _LADS!!!!!! ZOMBIE SPICE GIRLS!!!!!!! WE HAVE T DO IT_

Harry blinks at Louis. “Really? What’ll we do, just cover ourselves in blood?”

Louis shrugs. “Well, it’d definitely spice up our costumes - uh, no pun intended, christ.”

Harry cracks up, because of course she does. “That’s hilarious, I’m sending it.”

Louis rolls her eyes as Harry types the message, but she can’t stop smiling.

*

The house looks perfect, covered in fake cobwebs and furry plastic spiders and actual carved pumpkins. Harry binge watched Halloween baking playlists on Youtube and she’s spent the last few days baking all sorts of creepy looking sweets. Zayn and Jesy made a playlist that’s equally spooky and banging. Louis procured a shitton of pot and has renamed the day Halloweed. She’d also found the paper comparing Harry and Victoria Beckham, and it’s now proudly stuck to the fridge.

Jesy, Jade, Leigh and Perrie look amazing as Fire, Water, Air, and Earth. Jesy’s in red and orange, of course, while Jade’s in shades of blue, Leigh-Anne’s in flowing white, and Perrie’s in green. They look like forest nymphs, Louis loves it.

She thinks she and the other girls have killed it as well. She found a black metallic bodycon dress herself, which is so short and tight, it keeps trying to ride up over her bum. She’s also wearing heels, which sucks, but she couldn’t find a single picture of Victoria where she wasn’t wearing stilettos. Louis’s got her shoes from her year eleven ball, which are strappy and at least five inches high and somehow still relatively comfortable. Relatively. If she’s honest, the whole thing is out of her comfort zone - she doesn’t think she’s ever even worn a bodycon dress before - but she’s not letting that get to her. She’s already perfected Victoria’s snooty air; it’s all about false confidence.

Liam’s her complete opposite, in a crop top, Adidas trackies and comfy trainers. Her hair’s up in a ponytail. She’s fucking wearing Louis’s everyday look. “This crop top was Ruth’s, s’from 2001, can you believe she still had it?”

Which, no. No, Louis can’t, nor can she believe Liam fits into something her sister wore as a preteen. But Liam’s been swapping clothes with her sisters for as long as Louis’s known her, so she isn’t really surprised.

Zayn’s styled her hair into space buns, and she’s got on a leopard print crop top, matching leopard print flared trousers, and white platforms. Louis has no idea where she got any of it. Zayn had been in charge of their zombie make-up, so while they all look vaguely dead, splattered in blood with dark circles around their eyes and a grey tinge to their skin, Zayn looks the best. She said she couldn’t help being better at putting make-up on herself, which made Louis tell her she really should've been Posh, which made Zayn hit her.

Niall’s in one of those shapeless spaghetti strap dresses that were all the rage in the 90s. It’s light blue, which matches the scrunchies holding up her pigtails. She’s in white platforms as well - Louis had thought those would be harder to find. She and Zayn must have gone shopping together.

And then there’s Harry. She found a wig online that matches Geri’s hair perfectly, red with blonde bits in the front. She’s teased it and styled it high on her head, half-up, half-down, almost like a waterfall of hair. It’s so different, but she makes it work, she looks _good_. Despite her zombie makeup. And she’s wearing a union jack dress, except it’s more like a singlet. It’s basically obscene, it leaves very little to the imagination, it doesn’t even properly cover her arse. She’s also wearing red platform shoes, which means that even in her heels, Louis is still shorter.

It’s a lot. Louis’s only just beginning to realise that she might have had a proper crush on Geri as a kid, bless her poor repressed bisexual heart, because seeing Harry dressed as her is like a fantasy come to life.

They take at least a thousand photos together before the party starts, and Louis feels so content, so happy with their costumes. They look _amazing_ \- fuck false confidence, she’s levelled right up into self-assured. She’s sure this is going to be an incredible night.

*

House parties are amazing. First of all, she’s in her _house_ , so everything she needs is right here. Also, she can smoke a bowl wherever and whenever she wants. Also, Harry hasn’t left her side all night.

Also,  _she’s in her house_. If she wanted to go to bed right now, she could. That’s just, so amazing.

Obviously it’s been far too long since Louis’s thrown a party. And she’s had a few too many jelly shots.

That’s probably the reason she can’t work out why Niall’s dragging her through groups of people, not until they’re right in front of the karaoke set-up. Right, yeah, the karaoke. They’d all agreed to do this, had spent the week relearning a bunch of songs. Louis forgot.

Zayn and Liam are there already, and Harry’s behind Louis. Niall looks around at them all, delighted, and then says, “Do we wanna start with Wannabe?”

“S’classic, innit,” says Zayn, so they clear a bit of space, distribute the microphones, and by the time the track starts with the laughter and then Zayn and Harry start singing, all eyes are on them.

It’s hilarious, because they’re drunk, but it’s actually pretty good as well, Louis thinks. She's actually happy to see people recording them. They’ve all been listening to nothing but the Spice Girls all week, and they all know most of the words to a bunch of their songs anyway - Louis’s pretty sure every single one of them was obsessed with this group as a kid. Also, Niall somehow managed to find Spice Girls karaoke that actually lists which girl is singing which part, so theoretically, they could perform the songs in character.

But they’re drunk, and they’ve been singing along to these songs for most of their lives. It’s too hard to remember which part is which, and none of them think it matters anyway. They try to sing when the video tells them to, but nobody cares when they fuck it up.

It sounds brilliant anyway, Louis thinks. She loves the sound of their voices together, the way they harmonise. She thinks they’re actually entertaining, and she’s having too much fun attempting to dance in time with Harry and Niall.

The little crowd in front of them cheers for more, so they go through Stop! (which she and Harry giggle through, too amused by the hand actions that they both somehow remember), Say You’ll Be There, 2 Become 1 and Spice Up Your Life. They’re done after that, exhausted, but so thrilled as well. Louis’s so impressed by all their singing, honestly. Especially Zayn - she didn’t even _know_ Zayn could sing like that. Liam did most of Sporty’s runs, and Louis knows Liam can sing, has always teased her for over-singing in the car. But when Liam forgot, Zayn would do them, and she’s just as good. The two of them could seriously do this for a living.

And _Harry_ , Harry’s incredible. She’s a born performer. Louis tells her so after they finish, as Perrie and Jade give them all water like the goddamn angels they are. Jade happily tells them Jesy recorded the entire thing before she bounces over to Liam.

“Shhhhh,” Harry says, looking embarrassed. She presses a finger to Louis’s lips. “Shhh. No I’m not, don’t say that.”

“Yes you fucking are,” Louis insists, shaking her off. “You could go on the X-Factor right now and win it.”

“Shhhh,” Harry says, pressing her finger to Louis’s lips again. If she keeps that up, Louis’s going to bloody kiss her. “Stop it. I couldn’t, and besides, I’m not going anywhere near Simon Cowell.”

Louis could keep arguing, because Simon’s not on the show anymore, he’s being investigated for fraud and corruption at the moment and is probably going to jail, and Harry should know that. She should also know that she is in fact definitely talented enough to win the X-Factor. That’s not even debatable. But Harry’s fingers are still touching her mouth, she's flushed and sweaty but she looks calm, resolute. Her eyes are dark and intense.

Louis purses her lips to kiss Harry’s fingers, and Harry inhales sharply.

“Can we go to your room?” Harry asks, so quiet Louis almost misses it.

And they’re  _at their house_ , which means Louis’s bedroom is just upstairs, so, yes! Yes they absolutely can. Louis grabs Harry’s hand from where it’s still hovering at her lips and drags her away from all these people.

*

Louis’s room is much quieter. Calmer. Louis flops onto her bed while Harry sits on the edge and carefully takes off her wig. Louis thinks about hunting down some face wipes so they can take off their makeup, but she's never owned any herself, so she'd have to leave her room, which she really doesn't want to do. Besides, Harry's sweated off most of her zombie makeup by now, so she looks mostly normal, and Louis imagines she's done the same herself. It's really not worth getting up.

“C’n I’ve a bowl, Lou?” Harry asks when she's finished shaking her curls out, and Louis sits up.

“Course you can, love, you don't have to ask,” Louis says, reaching over to grab her bong and her Tupperware container of weed off her bookshelf. She packs the bowl for Harry, who always smokes green, and then offers Harry the bong.

Louis has to show her where to put her fingers - Harry smokes fairly often, this isn't even her first bowl of the night, but she can never remember what to do with her hands, especially when she’s drunk. Louis lights it for her, because that’s one less thing to coordinate, and Harry breathes in. She remembers to take her finger off the rush hole in time and she doesn’t even cough when she exhales.

“Woooow, I’m so fucking proud of you,” Louis says, kissing her cheek and taking the bong off her.

“Thanks,” Harry giggles. “I’m proud of me too.”

Louis packs her own bowl and takes her hit while Harry gets comfortable on her bed. Once Louis’s finished, she puts her bong aside and cuddles up next to Harry.  

“Mmmm,” Harry mumbles. “This was a good idea. All of it! All our decisions!”

Louis laughs. “Not sure about that one, babe.”

Harry sits up a bit to give her a stern look. “All our decisions led us to here,” she says. “And I think that’s good.” She flops back down.

“If you say so,” says Louis.

“Louuuuu,” Harry says into her shoulder. God, weed always gets Harry from drunk to mortal in zero point five seconds. “Lou. I’ve a secret.”

Louis tilts her head so she can blink at her. “You do?”

“Mm hm,” Harry mumbles. “I needa tell you. ‘ven though it’ll fuck ev’rythin’ up.”

Louis frowns. She doesn’t like Harry keeping secrets. “No it won’t,” she says. “There’s no way.”

“It will,” Harry says sadly. “It will 'cause you won’t wanna kiss me anymore.”

Louis’s mouth drops open. Harry sounds so sad at the prospect, and it’s utterly absurd anyway. She scoffs. “I doubt that. Nothin’s made me wanna stop kissin’ ya yet, hassit?”

Harry pouts. “This will.”

Louis shakes her head. “Well, tell me what it is then, lemme prove you wrong.”

Harry turns her face into her pillow and says something Louis can’t make out.

Louis smiles. “Didn’t catch that, babes.”

Harry heaves a sigh as she turns back to face Louis. “I said… I’m pretty sure I’m a lesbian.”

And Louis’s pretty sure time stops. At least, her heart does. “What?”

“You know how I’ve been looking for the perfect daddy, basically?” Louis nods. “Well, every single guy I meet isn’t right, and the other day you made me a tea and out of nowhere I thought, Louis would probably be a good daddy, and like. My world shattered. I realised maybe no guys have ever been right for me because I’m, y’know. Only into girls.”

Louis is confused. So, so, so confused. Since when was Harry into girls at all? Has Louis really been wrong all this time? And - God, fuck, is Harry saying she’d like Louis to be her _daddy_? Is that really, truly what she’s saying? How could she have possibly come to that conclusion based on Louis making her a _tea_?! Louis’s been making her tea for over a year now, for fuck’s sake!

She feels like her world has shattered too.

“I’m so confused, Haz,” she has to admit.

Harry bites her lip. “Are you upset with me?”

“No, no,” Louis says quickly, because she’s never upset with Harry. “Babe, I’m literally just so confused. I didn’t think you were into girls at all.”

Harry bites her lip and won’t meet Louis’s eyes. Louis can feel her skin grow hot. “Um, I, I think I let you think that,” she says. “I know this is horrible of me, but I - I knew you wouldn’t kiss me anymore if you knew.”

Louis is past confused. She’s genuinely baffled.

“Where did you get that idea?” she says. “I mean, I know Stan was kicking off about us kissing, but you were the one who always says it’s just what girls do. Like. You being into it would not put me off.”

“Oh,” Harry says. She looks surprised, and her breathing’s coming faster. “Really?”

Louis looks at her, at her eyes lit up and her chest moving fast. “Yeah,” she says softly.

“Good,” Harry murmurs. “Because I’m really, really into it.”

“Oh,” Louis says. It’s her turn to be surprised, but also, a spark of arousal sizzles through her veins.

It’s like she’s flipped a switch, like Harry’s turned her sexiness up to eleven, when all she’s doing is staring at Louis’s mouth. It’s seductive as fuck, her lids lowered and her mouth slightly open. She’s not even trying and Louis is all hers.

“Can I kiss you, Lou?” Harry asks. Her voice is strangled and when she meets Louis’s eyes, she looks desperate.

Louis skips all preamble and kisses her. It’s like every other time, except it's entirely different, because she's _allowed_ , every fibre of her being isn’t screeching for _more_. She can roll over on top of Harry and pull her in, she can straddle Harry’s thigh and rock against her, and she does. She doesn’t have to hold herself back, because Harry _wants_ her, Harry _likes_ her.

Louis moans a bit into the kiss just at the thought. It’s somehow even hotter than it usually is, just because it’s full of real possibilities.

It’s that thought, however, that makes her detach from Harry. Harry makes a soft whining noise.

“You know, I think you’re addictive,” Harry whispers, and Louis’s blood boils her from the inside out. That's _exactly_ how she's always felt about Harry, and to have her feelings reflected back at her - it's almost too much to handle.

“That's what I've always thought about you,” Louis says, shaking her head in astonishment. “Do you know how utterly absurd this is?”

Harry makes a face. “I mean, no? I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for ages. Thought I’d have to rent a sign.”

Louis has to laugh, even through her shock. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“Like, I literally begged you to fuck me, the other week when we topped and tailed. And you _rejected_ me.”

“Well, yeah,” Louis flounders. “Because I didn’t realise! I thought you were just - well, I dunno what I thought, but I definitely didn’t think you had, like, _feelings_.”

“I do have feelings, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says, cheeky as ever. “Lots of feelings. Do you wanna know one of them?”

“Yes,” Louis answers mindlessly.

“I feel like you should fuck me,” Harry announces. She looks incredibly fucking pleased with herself.

Louis inhales sharply. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, okay.”

Harry beams at her, the way she always does, her happiest smile that’s just for Louis, and _Louis sees it now_. She sees the fondness and fucking love that’s radiating out of Harry’s face, and she can’t believe she ever mistook this for friendship. Louis is Harry’s fucking person, and she finally gets it.

Louis kisses her, gently at first, but it turns heated within a few seconds. Louis rolls them over so Harry’s on top, purely because she’s desperate to get Harry’s bra off. She helps Harry pull off her dress, and then fumbles behind Harry to get her bra unhooked. She lets Harry take it off herself while she gets rid of her own dress and bra, which takes a minute, because even though her dress has ridden up over her hips, it’s still basically a fucking sausage casing.

Once they’re undressed, she pulls Harry flush against her, and fuck, there it is. Harry’s boobs slide against hers and Louis’s in heaven, fucking finally, her nipples on fire whenever they brush against Harry’s, especially when the cool metal on Harry's left tit touches her skin. Harry’s sweaty and there’s glitter on her boobs, somehow, and it immediately gets fucking everywhere, not to mention the random streaks of fake blood up her arms, but Louis couldn’t care less. _She’s allowed to touch Harry’s tits_. She’ll literally never get over it.

They kiss for a while, and then Harry starts shimmying, and Louis doesn’t quite realise what she’s doing until she wiggles out of her knickers. And then she’s trying to get inside Louis’s, and Louis grabs her hands and rolls her over. Not yet. This isn’t going to be like last time, this is _more_ than that.

It takes her a second to realise she’s got Harry’s wrists pinned to the bed, and the way Harry’s looking at her, her eyes dark, biting her lip. Harry’s not going to ask for it, but Louis knows now how this should go.

“Do you want Daddy to fuck you, baby?” Louis asks, her voice rough without even trying, and Harry gasps, her body rocking up against Louis like an involuntary spasm.

“Yes, God, _please_ ,” she says, and then her eyes clear just a bit. “Do you really - is that what you want?”

Louis groans and drops her head to suck Harry’s bottom lip into her mouth for a second, just because she needs to express all her swirling emotions.

“Yeah, baby,” she says. “Jesus fucking _christ_ , you have no idea what I want to do to you.”

Harry genuinely shudders, and her hips rock up again. “Please, want you to, _please_ , Daddy.”

Louis gasps and shivers herself, totally unprepared for how it feels to hear Harry _say_ that. Like all of her fucking dreams come _true_.

She kisses Harry again, but before it can get too heated, she rolls away and gropes in the sheets around them. Harry whines, but she stops once Louis finds what she’s looking for.

“It okay if I tie you up, kitten?” Louis asks, and Harry mouths at her, apparently speechless, before she nods enthusiastically. “We’ll do traffic lights, if that’s alright? Say red if you ever want to stop.”

Harry nods again, just as enthusiastically, and shit, they’re obviously going to have to have a proper discussion about this at some point, but Louis’s as eager as Harry is to get on with it. Safewords are about the best she can do right now.

Louis’s got a whole collection of bondage gear in here somewhere, in her wardrobe she thinks, but as if she could be fucked to pull away from Harry long enough to find it. Some other time. For now, she ties Harry’s hands to her headboard using both pairs of their damp underwear, which, given the way Harry groans when she feels the fabric, might even be the better choice.

She kisses Harry once she’s done, and then she kisses down Harry’s neck and down her chest. She spends a lot of time mouthing at Harry’s tits, makes sure to suck on every one of her four nipples, because she can. She spends some extra time tugging on Harry's nipple piercing, pleased by how it makes her writhe. It’s all leisurely but filled with tension at the same time, especially because of how Harry reacts. She’s squirming with every press of Louis’s mouth, her legs twitching on either side of Louis, and Louis doesn’t stop her, doesn’t want to keep her still. Not this time.

She finally leaves Harry’s boobs, kissing her way down Harry’s cute belly and detouring to press loving kisses to her love handles. It’s what they deserve.

Once she’s at Harry’s pubic bone, her sparse hair tickling Louis’s chin, Louis looks up. Harry’s so flushed already, she looks desperate, even more than Louis feels.

“I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” Louis says as she opens Harry’s labia some more, effectively spreading her open. Harry makes a garbled noise, and Louis ducks her head and licks across her clit. 

Harry cries out, because she’s so fucking _responsive_ , and Louis buries her face in her cunt. Her scent is so intoxicating, Louis wants to drown in it, and she’s so wet already. Louis moans as she licks up Harry’s folds, she tastes so tangy and sweet and perfect.

It’s not until she’s been down there for a minute or two that it dawns on her. She’s never done this before. She’s had countless fantasies, sure, and she’s watched a shitload of porn, and she’s had it done to her, but she’s never actually eaten someone out before.

She doesn’t really know what she’s doing, and that should freak her out, maybe, but it doesn’t. It’s Harry. She tries to remember what she likes herself, but she mostly goes with what feels natural, which is slow, gentle, almost methodological. 

Harry gets wetter and wetter, which is hotter than it has any right to be, and Louis adds a finger alongside her tongue, mostly just tracing Harry’s cunt for a bit, until she flattens her tongue against Harry’s clit. Then she dips her finger inside, and Harry cries and pushes down.

“Patience, baby girl,” Louis murmurs, and Harry moans.

Louis curls her finger, not even fucking her properly, just trying to press against her g-spot while she sucks at her clit. Harry’s thighs start to shake when Louis adds another finger, and she starts to come just when Louis’s jaw is starting to feel sore.

Louis presses her tongue against Harry’s clit and her fingers against her g-spot throughout, for a long time, she doesn’t want to stop until it’s over. Harry’s just making these short, breathy moans, drenching Louis's chin in her come, and then she gasps, “Ah, fuck, I’m - I can't, think I’m done.”

Louis slowly pulls her fingers out and presses one last kiss to her clit, then looks up. And fuck. _Jesus fucking christ_. Harry looks more debauched than Louis's ever seen her. Her curls are wild and her cheeks are bright pink, her mouth is red like she’s been chewing on it and her eyes are glassy.

Louis remembers the bong hits, suddenly, and how very not-sober they are, and how overwhelming orgasms are when she’s stoned. Like fuck, it makes _Louis_ floaty, she can only imagine how Harry’s feeling. She kinda doesn’t want to let Harry leave this bed until she’s had at least five orgasms, but she doesn’t want to do more than Harry can handle.

“Are you really,” Louis asks, heaving herself up to hover over Harry on her hands and knees. “You don’t think you could go again?”

Harry strains against her ties, and Louis thinks it’s because they’re not touching anywhere anymore. It goes straight to her clit, the idea that Harry’s hurting herself futilely just because she can’t touch Louis.

“Hazza,” she says. She needs to hear Harry speak. “Can you go again?”

“I can,” Harry says. “ _Please_ , yes. I can.”

“Please what?” Louis asks.

“Please, Daddy,” Harry whimpers, still straining against her ties, and Louis leans down to kiss her. 

“Good girl,” Louis says against her lips, and Harry moans. “My good girl.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry gasps, and Louis gives her another kiss, and then pulls away to lean over the side of the bed. Her shoebox of toys is just underneath, and Harry whines as Louis gropes around trying to find what she’s looking for.

“Shhh, be patient, my love,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s ribcage, which is the closest thing she can reach, and then she shuffles back until she’s sat between Harry’s legs again.

She’s got two vibes, and she flicks the stronger one onto its lowest setting and presses it to Harry’s swollen clit. Harry jumps, and groans, and Louis rocks the vibe back and forth over her clit before upping the setting.

Harry cries out and shoves her hips forward, and Louis takes the opportunity to flick on the other vibe - something she’s well practiced at doing one-handed - and rub it against Harry’s opening. This one is larger and more dick-shaped than the other, and it slides in so easily, Louis would maybe be surprised if she didn’t know how goddamn wet Harry is.

Harry fucking wails, she obviously wasn’t expecting that, and as much as Louis could spend her life with her face buried between Harry’s thighs, there’s something to be said for this view as well. To be able to watch Harry fall apart, her eyes shut and her head thrown back, her tits shoved forward and bouncing. She’s every single goddamn fantasy Louis’s ever had come to life, and what they’re doing is so tame. Louis positively cannot _wait_ to explore all of Harry’s kinks.

She turns up the setting on the vibe on Harry’s clit, so that it's at maximum power. Harry’s making a lot of garbled noises as Louis fucks her with one vibe and massages her clit with the other. It’s rough, compared to before, but Harry’s obviously into it, she’s rocking her hips and her thighs are trembling and she’s still pulling at the fucking underwear tying her to the bed, and she’s _crying_ , and Louis’s so turned on, she could come just from humping Harry’s leg a bit.

She’s not going to do that, because she’s had a brilliant idea. 

She waits until Harry’s close - Harry helpfully stutters out, “‘M - not gonna last” - and then she turns off the vibe inside Harry and takes away the one on her clit. Harry makes this noise, a mix between a groan and a whine, loud and unhappy, and it makes Louis laugh.

“Shhh, baby girl, it’s okay,” Louis says. She leaves the vibe inside Harry and puts the other one on the bed, which causes the bed to buzz rather comically, but Louis has more important things to take care of.

She crawls up until she’s straddling Harry’s chest, and then she starts to unknot the knickers around Harry’s reddened wrists. Harry’s clearly confused, she looks totally out of it, but Louis’s boobs are in her face and it only takes a moment before Louis feels wet lips around her nipple.

“Fuck,” Louis says when Harry's tongue ring presses against her nipple, trying to focus on undoing her own terrible knots. She gets Harry’s knickers free, and then gets frustrated and just rips off her own. 

As soon as she’s free, Harry’s hands go around Louis’s waist, tugging her into a kiss. It’s sloppy and desperate, it’s _perfect_ , and Louis gets lost in it for a moment before the buzzing vibe rolls against her leg and reminds her of her plan.

She pulls back, wipes the tear tracks from Harry’s face, and says, “I had an idea, but remember you can stop me at any time, okay?”

Harry nods, but the look on her face says she’s thinking she’ll never want to do that. She’s so goddamn ethereally beautiful, and she’s looking at Louis like she hung the moon, all dreamy and full of admiration. All Louis wants is to be worthy of the look on Harry’s face.

She grabs the vibe buzzing against her leg, and then lifts her leg and swings around - somehow, thankfully, not whacking Harry in the face in the process - and then her bum’s in front of Harry’s face.

Harry fucking gasps, her big hands coming up to settle on either side of Louis’s arse, and Louis - well. Louis knows she’s got a nice bum. She knows, but it’s one thing to know, and it’s quite another to have the love of her life hold her bum like it’s some priceless treasure.

“I thought I could sit on your face, would you like that?”

“Yes,” Harry breathes. “Yes, _please_ Daddy, please.”

“Anything for you, angel,” Louis says, shuffling back a bit until her cunt is flush with Harry’s mouth.

She’s focused on positioning the vibe and herself - she’d managed to forget that she doesn’t have three hands, and so the only way she can fuck Harry and hold the other vibe and hold herself up is by lying on top of Harry, her head resting on Harry’s hip while her hands reach around. And it’s a good thing she chose that position, because Harry’s mouth would’ve caused her to collapse in under a minute anyway. She’s got no technique whatsoever, it’s just her sloppy mouth on Louis’s clit and what feels like her nose pressing against Louis's opening, but it’s more than enough. Louis can feel her tongue ring, cool and hard against her clit, and that in itself is _enough_.

Louis presses the vibe against Harry’s clit, reaching to flick the other vibe back on and gently pressing on the tip of it, so that it slides in and out quite slowly. Harry makes this long, deep moaning sound that vibrates right through Louis. By the time Harry’s thighs start shaking, which Louis has already realised is her fucking tell, Louis’s close herself. And then, when Louis’s sure Harry’s about to come, she starts licking at Louis with even more fervour, like she’s desperate for Louis to come first.

Louis rocks back and forth on Harry’s face, feeling it building, watching _her own vibrator_ disappearing inside this girl, this beautiful incredible perfect girl who Louis’s always assumed was out of her reach. Harry’s thighs are shaking like mad, and Louis thinks she comes before Harry does, but she’s not sure. She keeps ahold on the vibe on Harry’s clit, but that’s all she does - she thinks maybe she blacks out for a second, but maybe not. Harry’s still coming when she opens her eyes, her tongue still pressed against Louis and her thighs and hips twitching.

Louis twirls the vibe one last time, and Harry’s body jolts, and Louis could keep this pressed against her, try to get her to come again. She’s tempted, but she doesn’t want to overdo it, so she slowly switches down the settings until the vibe’s off. Then she turns off the other one and slides that out, slowly again. She knows it feels much nicer to gently ease off, rather than stopping all at once.

Harry’s still licking at her cunt, sporadically and messily; she’s not trying to get Louis off, it’s like she just wants a taste. Can’t stop herself.

Which is incredible, and almost makes Louis want to go again, but she’s tired, the weed and alcohol really hitting her now that she’s came, and she’d prefer a cuddle.

She crawls up and off Harry, who whines and grabs at her. Louis wonders if that’s always going to be her reaction when Louis stops touching her, and if Louis herself will always find it this adorable. Probably yes.

Louis doesn't want to get up, but she wants to make sure Harry's hydrated. It looks like she needs it, with how glassy Harry's eyes are, how floaty she looks - she looks like she's in another dimension. She's shaking every now and then, Louis's not sure if it's aftershocks from the orgasm, or subspace, or if she's greening out. Or some combination of all three. Water will help.

Louis leans over and gives Harry a quick kiss. “I’m just gonna get you some water,” she says, and Harry pouts at her but lets her leave. Louis wraps herself in her duvet like a fucking cliché, grabs an empty water bottle, and ventures out to the bathroom.

Luckily it’s just a few steps away, and nobody’s upstairs, but the party’s still raging downstairs, which is completely mad. Louis feels like the whole world should have stopped, the way hers has. She can’t believe how wrong she’d been - that Harry is not only not straight, but also really fucking into her. It feels too good to be true.

Shit. Louis hates when Zayn’s right. She’s gonna be insufferable about this.

She gets back to her room to find Harry wrapped up in her sheet with her eyes closed. Louis thinks she’s asleep, but her eyes open as Louis comes into the room. She seems more lucid, now.  Louis offers her the water, and Harry sits up and sips at it while Louis climbs in beside her. Louis won’t let Harry lie back until she’s finished her water, but then she wraps her up in a proper cuddle. 

“How are you feeling?” Louis asks quietly.

“Amazing,” Harry says. “Just - _amazing_. So good, Lou. I always knew we’d be perfect together.”

“We really are, aren’t we,” Louis muses, and then she adds, “I’m really happy, Haz.”

Harry hums, sounding pleased. “I’m glad. So’m I.”

They fall asleep wrapped around each other to the faint sounds of what Louis thinks is Zayn and Liam warbling Viva Forever. It’s a sad song, Louis’s always thought so, but right now, and especially because she can barely hear it, it just feels emotionally overwhelming. And that’s perfect.

*

Louis wakes up next to Harry for about the millionth time, but this is the first time she feels completely at peace. She’s not doing anything wrong, and she’s not risking her heart on someone unattainable. She feels like everything’s _right_ for the very first time.

She’s _able_ to wake Harry up with kisses, there's nothing questionable about it, so she does, despite her morning breath. Harry’s eyelids flutter and she kisses back mindlessly for a second, which is cute as hell, and then her eyes fly open.

And she beams. “Lou,” she says happily, kissing her once more before settling back just to look at her, apparently.

“Morning, baby,” Louis says, and Harry’s expression softens even more.

“Good morning,” Harry says. “ _Very_ good morning.”

Louis laughs. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it,” Harry says, which is true, so Louis doesn’t protest.

“How are you feeling, then?” Louis asks.

“Amazing,” Harry says, just like she did last night. “And… satisfied. Very satisfied.”

Louis smiles. “Me too,” she says. “I’ve really… I’ve needed that. Needed this. For fucking ages.”

Harry nods. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m really glad I finally figured out that I needed to tell you I’m not straight.”

Louis laughs. “Me fucking too, babe,” she says. She tries to go over their conversation from last night, but she’s pulling up some blanks. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“You can ask me anything,” Harry says. “I’ll even answer.”

“Wow, cheers,” Louis giggles. “I’m just - trying to get everything sorted. Did you say last night you think you’re a lesbian? Not bi? I mean, I thought you liked lads.”

Harry makes a face. “Well, I’m still not entirely sure,” she says, slow and thoughtful. “But I just… Lou, I've been out with so many guys, and I found most of them revolting… Even the ones I liked, I wasn’t attracted to. And it just made me think, like, do I even like boys, or am I just dating them because I feel like I’m supposed to?” She shrugs. “Part of me thinks that if the perfect lad came along, maybe… But they’d have to be _perfect_. And I don’t even - I don’t  _care_ , because the perfect girl is right in front of me, so.”

Louis blinks. She opens her mouth, then closes it, because she doesn’t even know what to say.

“I meant you,” Harry says. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Sorry, I think I’m in shock,” Louis says. “It’s just - Hazza, I’ve spent so long thinking you’d never feel the same. This is a bit of an adjustment. And I’m not even awake yet.”

Harry bites on her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “Do you wanna wait til you’ve had your tea, then?”

Louis shakes her head and tightens her arms around Harry. “I don’t wanna get up. I just need to process.”

“Will it help if I tell you some of the things I’ve realised about myself?” Harry asks, and Louis nods. “Well, alright. So I’ve always found it easy to flirt with people I wasn’t interested in, right? S’why I’m a disaster at flirting with you.”

Louis’s mouth drops open. “Excuse me, what?”

Harry frowns. “I thought it was so obvious,” she says. “It was so fucking easy for me to flirt with all these boys, because it meant nothing, but with you - I just felt so _obvious_. Like it was obvious I just wanted to touch you, or stare at you, and, like, instead of telling me how to flirt with you, my brain decided I needed to be as aloof as possible. But I needed you to pay attention to me. It was all very confusing.”

“You’re telling me,” Louis says, but she’s fond. She can’t bring herself to be bitter over it, not when Harry’s so cute and so confused herself.

“Well, yeah,” Harry says. “So, the thing I discovered - that’s why flirting with boys has always been so easy for me. Because it means nothing. Sometimes it’s easy with girls, too, but when I find them attractive - well, case in point,” she gestures to Louis.

“That actually makes sense,” Louis says. “In an unbelievable sort of way.”

Harry giggles. “Is it ever gonna be believable?”

“Maybe on our fiftieth anniversary,” Louis says, and Harry beams at her. “Tell me another thing you realised, that might help.”

“Alright…” says Harry thoughtfully. “Okay. So you know what I used to do, when I thought I liked a boy, right, and he’d be tryin’ to pull some other girl? I’d squirrel her away, right, and I’d kiss her, thinking if she was tashin’ on with me then she couldn’t be with the lad I liked,” she laughs, shaking her head. “It always just ended with me kissing girls instead of boys.” She laughs some more. “I’m fuckin’ ridiculous.”

Louis laughs too. “That is genuinely amazing,” she says. She pauses. “Is that all it went? Kissing? You never went any further?” She’s kinda joking, but Harry pauses thoughtfully.

“Um,” she says, then chuckles awkwardly. “Well, okay. Back in college - so this guy was my ex, but we were friends. He met this new girl and I hated seeing them together, but I thought she was cool, right, I had nothing against her. One night we were out and I couldn’t stand it, so I kissed her, and then I kept kissing her throughout the night, and we went back to my mate’s place, all three of us, and well, we were really drunk, so me an’ her kept, like, flirting and making out everywhere. I kept telling her it was making him jealous.” Harry hides her face in Louis’s neck.

“And?” Louis prompts, her stomach turning to lead. She thinks maybe Harry’s about to say she’s had a threesome, and like, that’s fine. She’d just, stupidly, rather fancied the idea of being the only girl Harry’s been with. 

“Well, he was,” Harry says. “Jealous. He picked a fight and she argued with him and I ended up retreating.” She huffs a laugh. “I don’t like when people yell.”

Louis smiles fondly. “I know, sunshine,” she says. Then, “Wait a minute. Did you do that with me?”

Harry bursts out laughing. “Oh God, you know. I might’ve.” She giggles. “D’you remember the first time we kissed?”

Louis couldn’t forget it if she tried. She’d only known Harry a few weeks, and they’d all gone out together, and Louis had been dancing with a bloke from her Intro to English course. She hadn’t cared about him very much, so she hadn’t minded at all when Harry replaced him. They’d danced, way too close, for ages, and then Harry kissed her. It was the first time Louis felt the world slot into place, like everything made sense.

Harry had ignored her the next day, and then she’d baked Louis biscuits and said she was a dickhead when she was drunk. Louis said she didn’t mind, she’d happily kiss Harry whenever, she just didn’t want to be avoided afterward. But she accepted the biscuits.

She remembers Harry protesting that she _had_ to avoid her, she couldn’t see her until she’d made the biscuits! Louis still thinks that’s funny.

“Did you like that lad I was with, then?”

Harry blushes. “I’d never seen him before,” she says. “That was the first time I couldn’t really justify it to myself. I just didn’t wanna see you with him.”

Louis hums. “If it helps, I hate seeing you with other people also.”

“It does help,” says Harry with a bright smile that quickly turns into her murder frog stare. “Lou, you don't even know how jealous I've been, seeing you with Stan. It was eating away at me, even when I hadn't figured out how I really felt about you. It's just - it's always felt like you're s'posed to be mine.”

Louis's heart leaps into her throat at that. Somehow, she thinks, it's such a romantic statement. Harry looks and sounds so _possessive_ , her intense stare taking on a whole new meaning, and Louis isn't really sure why, but she feels flattered deep in her soul. “God,” she manages. “I've felt the exact same way, you know.”

Maybe she likes seeing all of her deepest ugliest jealous possessive feelings mirrored back from the person she's wildly in love with.

Harry shakes her head in wonder, like she can't quite believe it, which is good, honestly, it helps Louis to know she's not the only one feeling a bit stunned. “I'm - yeah,” she says, floundering for words. “That's just amazing.” Louis kisses her jaw, and Harry closes her eyes for a second, like she's too overwhelmed. “Um, so, what I was gonna say, is I suppose that’s why I didn’t see the issue with the whole Stan thing. I got used to kissing girls, to get them away from boys. It’s a bit fucked if I think about it.”

“I think I know how you can make up for it,” says Louis, rolling until she’s on top of Harry.

“Oh really?”

“Mhm,” Louis hums, giving Harry a quick kiss. “You could only kiss me from now on.”

“Hmm,” Harry pretends to think about it. “And you won’t kiss anyone else either?”

“Why on Earth would I want to?” Louis asks, and Harry laughs.

“So are you saying… you wanna be my girlfriend?”

Louis laughs too. “There’s literally nothing I want more.”

Harry’s nose scrunches up as she smiles. Louis’s never seen anyone more beautiful in her life, and she never wants to, and she never will.

*

When they finally emerge from Louis’s bedroom, their friends have cleared most of the strays out of the house, and for some reason, Liam’s making pancakes.

Niall, Leigh, Perrie, and Jade are sitting at the table - presumably the others are asleep. Louis sits down and then gestures for Harry to sit in her lap - Harry, who’s wearing Louis’s bedsheet like a toga. Louis at least managed to put on a shirt and undies. Harry had insisted on the sheet.

Leigh-Anne squints at them, like she knows something’s different, but Louis waits until Liam’s joined them with her first batch of pancakes before she says anything.

“So, Harry’s me girlfriend now.”

Harry laughs, Jade drops her fork, Leigh nods like she already knew this, Perrie and Liam start talking at once, and Niall bursts into tears.

Harry jumps to her feet, presumably to comfort her, but Niall waves her off.

“No, no, sit down,” she says, but she’s still bloody crying. “I’m just so fuckin’ happy for you! This is so fuckin’ overdue!”

Louis’s still startled, but she blows Niall a kiss. “Thanks, babe,” she says, then looks to the rest of them. “That, by the way, is the only acceptable reaction. You’re all fired.”

“Shut up, Louis,” Perrie says.

“Yeah, shut up, and tell us how you finally got your head out of your arse,” Liam says.

“Well I can’t very well do both, Liam,” Louis huffs, and Harry giggles and kisses her cheek.

Which sets Niall off again. “This is so good! You’re so pure! The world is just so beautiful!”

Louis dislodges Harry a bit to lean over and shovel a pancake onto Niall’s plate. She’s sure to wake up Zayn if she carries on, and Louis would like to avoid Zayn’s told-you-so stare right now. 

“Ooh, pancakes,” Niall says and reaches for the maple syrup.

Harry makes a face at Louis as if to say ‘seems about right’, but she says sincerely, “Thank you, Nialler, we appreciate your enthusiasm.”

Niall grins at her as she shoves half a pancake into her mouth. “S’just my true feelings. I have so many _emotions_.”

“You have blessed our union,” Louis says seriously, and Harry does her startled ‘HA!’ laugh, and then she kisses Louis.

Louis’s hungover, her stomach’s queasy and it’s far too bright in their kitchen, but she’s certain she’s never been happier.

***

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!!! sorry it's about half as long as it should be and for all the exposition!!! but if you liked it there's a [tumblr post here](http://nobodymoves.tumblr.com/post/180429553893/tell-them-were-like-magnets-harrylouis-31k) if you wanna reblog :) <3


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